


Fool's Gold

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, harry is an artist, liam is emotionally constipated, which makes for a lot of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "His own words make him pause, his expression twisting with confusion. It wasn’t until then that he realizes that since the talk of having a boyfriend started, Harry’s face had been smirking at him in his head. Liam doesn’t know why that was his split second response, but he feels like he doesn’t even know who he is as his mother’s eyebrows raise and his sister throws up a fist in victory."a cup of fake boyfriends, a spoonfull of college, and some Christmas cheer. wrapped in angst and love and baked in the oven at 400 degrees.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LesserDisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesserDisaster/gifts).



> I mixed two of your prompts together and I really hope that's okay! I used parts of your first request and your fourth one to create this mess of a story that I swear wasn't suppose to be 25,ooo words. I really really hope you like it! 
> 
> Also, thank you to Sarah (weyheythere) for being my wonderful beta reader!

The best thing to happen to Liam Payne in his twenty-one years of life is his roommate moving out. Miles was an artist, his fingers always dusted black with charcoal and mysteriously leaving prints all over Liam’s side of the room. He wouldn’t let Liam shut off the light at night as he drew countless portraits of naked girls and roads that seemed to wind on and on. He swore that he couldn’t work unless his folk music was playing and stated that headphones hurt his ears. One night, when Liam asked about the roads as a futile attempt at amicability, Miles looked over from his bed that was surrounded by the pictures hung on the wall and actually stuck his nose up, eyes squinted behind the ridiculously large, round frames of his glasses. 

“It’s my trademark. My namesake. This road represents all that I am. All of the  _ miles  _ I have to travel.” 

To say the least, Liam and Miles never really learned how to get along. 

So when Liam woke up two weeks into October to find Miles packing up a moving box, his long, black hair falling in his face as he explained that he would be moving into his sculptor friend’s apartment, Liam won’t deny rolling over and nearly letting out a screech of happiness into his pillow like a kid. He also won’t deny buying cake and the cheapest bottle of liquor he could find to celebrate a night of dark silence, no twang of a banjo or scratch of charcoal to be heard. 

He’s ready for that same quiet today, ready to pull his blackout curtains across the window and sink into a dream where the early morning exam he just finished doesn’t exist. He’s already unbuttoning his jeans as he gets to the hallway of his dorm and pulling his shirt over his head as he unlocks the door. He doesn’t even get the curtains shut or his jeans off before collapsing on the bed, exhaustion weighing his bones down like lead. 

He is just about to sink into sleep when he opens his eyes. He doesn’t know why he does it and they only crack open a centimeter, but it is wide enough to see the two suitcases on the unused bed beside him. 

_ No,  _ he thinks, opening his eyes fully.  _ No, those don’t belong here. _

He jumps out of bed and buttons his pants, leaving the comfort of his bed to storm towards the RA’s room without looking back. 

“Louis!” He yells, pounding at the door with his face smushed into the wood. “Louis, I know you don’t have class this morning so wake the fuck up, this is an emergency!”

He’s raising a fist to slam against the door again when suddenly the door isn’t there and Liam is stumbling forward, Louis so generously stepping out of the way so that he lands on the ground. 

“This better be good,” Louis sighs, hands on his hips.

“I would love to know why there are suitcases in my room,” Liam says from the floor, rolling over so that the old rug scratches at his bare back. “And if you would so kindly find the owner of them a different room.”

It takes ten seconds for Louis’ eyebrows to go from furrowed to raised. “Oh. Did I not tell you? I could’ve sworn…” 

“Told me what, exactly?” 

Liam pulls himself up to standing and looks down at his best friend with squinted eyes. Louis is all ruffled from sleep, his face scruffy, and he has the  _ audacity _ to grin up at Liam with innocence. “His name is Harry and you’ll love him.”

Liam slowly closes his eyes. “This does not mean what I think it does.”

“I found him camping out in Niall’s dorm when his roommate wasn’t there! And I think I’ve seen him sleeping in the library! He was like a pitiful puppy, Liam. He said he was on the wait list and then couldn’t get a dorm and has nowhere to stay, he’s not even from California. So, I told him, hey! I know a place! I know a guy!” 

“There has to be someplace else!”

Louis shakes his head. “Bro, we’re completely full this semester. I promise you guys will get along! Just, like, ignore the painting thing.”

“Why can’t he just- wait. Painting thing?”

“He… paints. Occasionally?”

“As in he’s an art major?”

“Possibly.”

Liam throws his hands up. “You might as well have moved Miles back in! I had just gotten used to not having to deal with the lights on until the sun is up, or ridiculous art on the wall. What, does he paint roads, too? Does he think he’s the next Van Gogh? You know I can’t stand pretentious artists, Louis.”

“I’ll be sure to keep all of my ridiculous art in the closet then,” comes a voice from behind him. Liam freezes, and the  _ now you’ve done it  _ look that Louis shoots him confirms his sinking feeling. “Wouldn’t want to offend you with a scenic painting of highway 1, now would I?”

Liam turns slowly to face the owner of the sarcastic british lilt and- well. The first thing that he notices is his mouth, all rosy and  _ there _ . But his brown hair is short and purposefully messy and he’s wearing a ridiculous hawaiian shirt that is only done up at one button just above his belly button, which is annoying even if it does make Liam want to ask about the dozens of little tattoos he has scattered over his smooth chest and- is that a moth?

“Hey, mate, my eyes are up here,” he says, making Liam jerk his eyes up to find Harry and those lips lifted into a smirk that Liam already hates. “But I’d be glad to show you the rest later.” He winks and Louis snorts and Liam is done. 

“I’m not dealing with the lights on until the sun is up, okay? Get a desk lamp or something. And if you want to play shitty music while you paint use headphones. I’ve just gotten used to actually getting sleep and it’s grown on me.” Liam rambles, the back of his neck beginning to sweat because Harry is staring at him like he’s crazy, which maybe he is, but Liam has never been good with new people.

“Right… I’ll keep that in mind,” Harry says, with a slight tone that indicates he’ll forget everything Liam has said within the walk back to the dorm. 

With that, Liam nods and pushes past Harry, making sure to glare back at Louis as he goes. He’s in his now shared dorm room only long enough to grab a shirt and change into shorts, leaving for the gym before Harry arrives to make himself comfortable. 

As he starts carrying weights to the bench, he feels slightly embarrassed over how he had reacted to Harry. It’s just that new people have never really worked out in Liam’s favor aside from Louis, which was only because Louis is so demanding, Liam reckons. If Louis hadn’t decided to take Liam under his wing freshman year, Liam is sure he would be just as alone as he had been in high school, his shyness coming off as standoffish from the start. 

So maybe it’s time to be more open, Liam thinks. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe he’ll make a new friend. 

~

When Liam gets back there is tarp on the floor. Harry is in the middle of it with a canvas in front of him, the beginnings of a road being brushed onto it. Classical music is playing loudly from a laptop on Harry’s bed and the boy turns around to grin up at Liam. 

“Thought I’d gift my new roommate with something special! For how welcoming you were, of course!” He goes back to painting and Liam sighs, knowing that he and this boy are far,  _ far  _ from friendship. He pulls off his sweaty shirt and plops onto his bed, tugging his pillow over his head and praying that this is all a dream. 

~

Harry and Liam could not be more opposite. Harry loves to stay up until around the time Liam is getting up to workout. Harry always has people in the room, lounging on Liam’s bed like that’s an okay thing to do. One time Liam saw someone in his class wearing one of his bleach stained Adidas shirts. It took nearly all of Liam’s courage to approach him, but when he did the boy’s excuse was, “Harry said it’d be chill.” Liam does not find it chill. 

Plus, that stupid road painting mocks him from the end of Harry’s bed where it leans against the wall.

“And he thinks he owns the world just because he has friends and can hold a paintbrush,” Liam says, waving his sandwich at Louis who is too caught up in whatever Niall is showing him on his phone to care. They’re sitting in the grass just outside of the lunch hall, the sun high in the sky and bringing the kind of warmth you just want to breath in and enjoy. Liam’s mind is too preoccupied to think about that, though. And Louis’ sun is Niall.

“Yeah, Liam, that sounds- Oh, sick! We should try that. Imagine Kyle’s face-”

“But where would we get a fire extinguisher?” Niall laughs, leaning towards Louis. 

“Dude, they have them in every hallway! It’s, like, protocol, I think. Trust me with this, Niall, I’m a genius.”

Niall only laughs harder, his eyes scrunching up as he and Louis look at each other like they’re on top of the world. Liam balls up a piece of bread and throws it at them, hitting Niall’s cheek. Louis puts a protective arm around him like he’s guarding a prince. 

“No projectiles,” Louis scolds, throwing the ball of bread back. 

“I’m having a crisis here!” 

Niall crawls over to Liam, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Liam, buddy, I’m thinking we need to forget about this whole roommate situation for a while. So, listen, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Louis here and I had a grand plan,” he says the words while motioning in front of them as if they’ll be displayed in the air. “Of going to our separate families on Thursday and then road tripping along the coast the rest of the weekend. You see, your friends here are going to be surfboarding gods! How’d you like to join?” 

“Have you two ever surfed before?” Liam asks.

“Nah, but we’re Californian,” Niall states, still grinning. “It’s in our blood.”

Liam can’t help but smile, too, at the thought of Niall and Louis flailing around on surfboards, having the time of their lives. But he doesn’t really see where he’d fit in that picture. 

“Thanks, boys, but I think I’ll stick to family this year.” Louis opens his mouth, his face twisting in defense, and Liam knows what he’s going to say before he says it so Liam adds, “My  _ blood _ family,” to save himself. “Anyways, they’ve been bothering me nonstop about bringing someone home for the holidays, wouldn’t want them to get any ideas while I’m out gallivanting with you two.”

“We would make fantastic boyfriends, just so you know,” Louis says, laying back onto the grass, sunlight making his tan skin glow.

“Yeah,” Niall says wistfully with a fond tilt of his head. 

Louis drops his head to the side, grinning at them, and Liam thinks he hears Niall suck in a breath. “Karen loves me,” he says. 

“Who wouldn’t love you,” Liam says fondly, ruffling his best friend’s hair as he gets up. “Well, I have some studying to do so I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.” He winks which lifts Louis’s laugh into the air, and Liam doesn’t miss the blush creeping up beneath the neck of Niall’s tank top. Sunburn, he’ll tell Louis, but Louis knows the truth. Louis looks at Niall the same way. They both just need to get to the saying it out loud part. 

As Liam walks back to his dorm, he vaguely wonders if Harry will be there, but he mostly thinks about someone else looking at him the way Niall and Louis behold each other. His parents would be overjoyed, and over the years of only a few subpar dates and drunkenly making out with some dude at one of the three parties he has been to, Liam thinks that maybe he’d like to have someone who could fall for him. But that doesn’t seem very realistic, so before he starts to panic about being alone forever he pushes those thoughts from his head and makes a mental checklist of work he needs to complete before break instead. 

~

Liam loves his family. His father has always pushed him to be his best self, but been there to catch him when he’s fallen back, his mother has always, always had her arms open and a shoulder to cry on, and his sisters have been his best friends when he had none. That’s exactly why he made sure to choose a college close to San Francisco and drives home about every other weekend when he can. It’s around a six hour drive from Los Angeles, but completely worth it every time.  

Thanksgiving break is no less rewarding, his mother, Karen, smothering him on the front porch of their yellow house that is smashed up right next to their neighbors house of blue. Mrs. Julia, the woman next door who Liam has known his whole life, even stops watering her plants to wave hello. His father pulls him into a hug that somehow becomes a headlock that even after all these years Liam can never escape. And then he’s on the couch and watching football with his dad until his eyes grow to heavy to hold open. 

Ruth arrives later that day, just as mom is setting their small Thanksgiving dinner on the dining room table. Nicola couldn’t make it this year, and Liam is slightly thankful for only one sister to deal with when Ruth starts asking  _ the question _ .

“So, Liam, where is the special someone we all know you’re hiding on us. I can feel it in my soul, you’ve definitely got someone,” she states confidently, reaching over to give a shove that Liam dodges, skipping around the table to sit at the opposite side. He clenches his teeth. 

“Oh my, look how red he’s gotten!” His mom joins in. When she reaches her hand towards his, he doesn’t move away. “You know you don’t have to keep any secrets from me. I’d accept whoever you choose to date. I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders not to pick a bad egg.” 

“Yes, mom,” Liam sighs, sinking down in his chair. 

“All I ask is that he play football. I’ve got two girls with boyfriends here and neither of them could throw the ol’ pigskin to save their life,” Liam’s dad adds, beginning to slice into the turkey. 

Liam snorts. “Yeah, well he’s definitely not that.”

His own words make him pause, his expression twisting with confusion. It wasn’t until then that he realizes that since the talk of having a boyfriend started, Harry’s face had been smirking at him in his head. Liam doesn’t know why that was his split second response, but he feels like he doesn’t even know who he is as his mother’s eyebrows raise and his sister throws up a fist in victory. 

“I knew he wasn’t telling us something!” Ruth cheers, sitting back with a smug grin as she waits for Liam to further explain. 

And Liam is about to shut it all down, he swears. He opens his mouth to tell them that he doesn’t know what otherworldly force took over his tongue just a second ago, but he is, in fact, still completely and utterly single. Then he looks at his mother’s face, her gentle eyes shining so brightly with elation, and the truth fizzles into thin air. Instead he says:

“His name is Harry.”

Ruth repeats the name, trying to imagine a face with it, and Karen gives a little gasp. “Oh my, I don’t think I’ve heard that name on a young person for a while. What’s he like?”

Her happiness makes shame coil in Liam’s stomach. He stares at his empty plate. “Well, he’s British, so the name kind of makes sense, I guess.”

“British?” Ruth exclaims, outraged. “No, no, no, that is  _ completely  _ unfair.” And  _ completely  _ untrue, Liam’s mind adds. He grabs for the mashed potatoes for something to do with his hands. “Just wait until Nicola finds out!”

“You don’t have to tell her,” Liam says quickly, hoping to keep this little lie contained to only one of his sisters until he can get back to college and call his mom about he and Harry’s mutual breakup. “It’s actually not that serious, guys…”

“I want to meet the boy,” his dad adds, and Liam glares at him from across the table because he knows what is coming next. 

“Yes, me too! Do you know if he has plans over Christmas?” his mom asks. 

Ruth nods furiously and Liam wants to tell her not to let her head fall off. “We have to meet him, Lee.”

“He’s probably going home!” Liam says exasperatedly, just wanting to put an end to this all. “Christmas is far away, anyways.”

“Well, do invite him here if he can’t make it home.” Karen reaches for his hand again and squeezes it, looking at him with so much love that Liam wants to sink into the floor for being so undeserving of it. 

“I will, mom. I’ll ask.”

~

After that, Liam can’t stop thinking about it. He lays in his childhood bed which is much more comfortable than the dorm beds, but he can’t enjoy the cloud-like softness because all he can think about is what the cloud-like softness of Harry’s lips might feel like. Or something. 

His family knows how he can tend to shy away from being put on the spot too much, so they don’t ask about Harry a lot after Thanksgiving night, but it doesn’t seem to matter because he’s starting to imagine Harry being with them everywhere they go. He thinks about him lounging at the beach with them, wonders if he burns quickly and pushes the thought of helping him apply sunscreen out of his mind as quickly as it comes. He wonders if Harry has ever seen the Golden Gate bridge, if he’d stick his head out the window as they drove over it, balancing his phone in his hands for the perfect, artsy instagram shot. Maybe they’d take him to Fisherman’s Wharf or to find sea lions at the pier. The possibilities whirl around in his head no matter how hard he tries to tell himself how impossible it all is, how he doesn’t even  _ like  _ Harry. But the harder he tries to push away the idea of it, the easier the ideas come. 

“I am so happy you’ve found someone,” his mom says quietly when he’s hugging her goodbye. She pulls away, but keeps him close, holding onto his shoulders, blinking away a sheen of tears. “I really am so happy college is working out for you, little Lee.” 

He rolls his eyes fondly at the nickname and pulls her in for another hug, hoping she isn’t too heartbroken when he calls her in a week to tell her he won’t be bringing anyone to Christmas once again. He wishes the truth didn’t sting as much as his lie. 

~

When Liam gets back to his dorm Harry is naked. 

There’s an acoustic song playing from his laptop and the window blinds are open wide to let the dwindling sunlight in. It casts shadows along the walls of the room and the ridges of Harry’s shoulder blades and curves of his thighs where he is laying out on the floor over a damp towel, sketching something onto a sketch pad. Liam’s heart stutters in his chest and he is frozen in place, eyes scanning over the light, soft skin of Harry’s back and the curving line of his spine. His legs are crossed and his ass is just  _ there _ , the sunlight catching in the peach fuzz between the dimples right above it. 

Liam doesn’t realize that his hand has gone slack until his duffle bag falls to his feet which causes both of the boys to jump. Harry looks over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and Liam’s cheeks flame. Neither of them make any move to look away, or any move at all. Harry just smiles and lets a chuckle fall from his lips. 

“Sorry, didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” he drawls, tongue darting out. “Do you mind this? I’ll grab pants if it freaks you out.”

Liam is shocked into motion then, picking his bag back up and finally tearing his gaze away. “Um, no, I mean I was just-” his fractured sentence fades off as he throws his bag onto his bed and turns back to the dorm room door. “I mean, you do you, right? I gotta go anyway so, yeah. See you.” He slams the door shut, cutting off Harry’s soft music and putting a wall between him and Harry’s naked body. He leans against the wall for a moment, steadying the racing of his heart, collecting himself and heading for the room down the hall. 

~

“You told them  _ what _ ?” 

Louis is sprawled out on his bed in a pair of blue board shorts that ride down to show of the tan he achieved while venturing across the coast of California. Niall is sitting cross legged beside him in his underwear and a tanktop, looking more burnt than anything. Their hair is a mess and Liam doesn’t know if he has interrupted something, but he is having a crisis. 

“I don’t know what happened! It just burst out of me!” Liam paces the floor, rubbing at his face. “And now he’s naked in our room and I don’t know what to do about that.” Niall and Louis give each other a knowing look and Liam stops in front of the bed, pointing at them. “No. I know what you two are thinking.”

Niall throws his hands up. “We didn’t say anything, bro.”

“Louis doesn’t have to say anything for me to know what’s in his head.”

“All the signs are there,” Louis says.

“I am not into Harry!” The sentence feels strange so he tries a different one. “He’s just another pretentious artist,” but that doesn’t sound right either. 

“Harry is not a bad guy,” Niall chips in. “He’s friends with nearly all of my friends and slept in my dorm illegally for a month and I’ve never had a problem with him. He seems kind of cool, actually.”

“That’s because everyone likes you, Niall,” Liam sighs, sitting at the edge of the mattress. “I think I bring out the worst in everyone.” 

He wants to sink into himself for admitting how he feels. He wants to crawl back into his mother’s arms and tell her that he is still alone, that college is just confusing and stressful and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive in the world after this. He drops his head into his hands and Louis’s arm slinks around his shoulder. 

“Hey, you know that’s not true. I’ve gotten more studying done with you than with anyone else in this school,” he chuckles, squeezing Liam closer. 

Liam scoffs, “Great, I sure am the life of the party.”

“Shut up, you’re an amazing person, Liam. But I think you decided not to like Harry way before you met him.”

Liam falls quiet. His fingers fidget with the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I get it, though,” Niall adds softly. “I think that pushing people away is easier than letting them get close enough to hurt you.”

Liam doesn’t know how to respond to that. He thinks about the way he had stormed to Louis’s room and insulted Harry’s art before even seeing it. Maybe he has a knack for pushing people away before giving them a chance… 

“You guys don’t have to always be right, you know,” he mutters, a grin playing at his lips when Louis laughs.

“I can’t help it, bro, I’m just flawless in all aspects of life.”

Liam snorts and stands. “Sure, of course you are. I guess I should go apologize for being a dick to the naked guy in my dorm room.”

Louis calls out after him as the door closes, “I’ve heard makeup sex works wonders!”

Liam’s cheeks burn as images flood behind his eyes and he shakes his head to make them disappear like an etch-a-sketch drawing. It doesn’t work very well. 

When Liam gets back to his room, Harry is sitting on his bed with a pair of boxer briefs on and an unbuttoned red flannel shirt draped over his shoulders. Liam speaks before Harry looks up, knowing that if he waits he’ll chicken out. 

“I didn’t mean to be such a dick to you,” he blurts out. Harry’s eyebrows raise. “It’s not personal. Like I don’t really hate you because I don’t know you, I just hate your art.”

Harry expression dampens, affronted. “Wow, thank you.”

“No!” Liam holds out a defensive hand. “No, I just can’t stand artists, you know?”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Shit, I mean-”

“But it all works out, yeah?” Harry stands, grabbing jeans from the floor and pulling them on. “You hate artists and I hate American college judgemental douchebags who look down on people to make their dick feel bigger in their hand as they piss on everyone who likes to do other things rather than lifting their body weight in the gym every day.” Liam’s jaw has dropped, but he’s speechless, standing there with a gaping fish mouth as Harry walks over to him, getting in his face. 

His eyes are dark and green and angry. His mouth is pulled back in a sarcastic smirk. “So it looks like we’re even.” 

Liam is left standing there, arms limp at his sides as indie music continues to play from Harry’s bed. The painting of the road still haunting the room and driving a feeling of guilt into Liam’s core. He goes to it and flips it around, but the back of the canvas makes him feel even worse and he turns it the right way again, instead going over to turn off the music. 

On the bed beside Harry’s laptop is the sketchpad he had been drawing in. Before Liam can even think about how wrong it is, his fingers are gliding along the edge of the pages. When he flips it open, Britain stares back. It’s more detailed than he had expected, an alleyway shaded in black, the only sign labeling it as Britain being the Union Jack hanging from a pub window. Liam flips the page.

It’s a garden, this one less detailed but the page filled with flowers. Two children are playing in the center of the blooms, a boy and a girl. The girl is smiling up at the sky, hair cascading over her shoulders and eyes scrunched shut. The boy is staring at her admiringly. It’s amazing how much emotion Liam can recognize from pencil lines on paper. 

When he turns a page again, the mood has changed drastically. It’s a man glaring at Liam, his face wrinkled and contorted spitefully. The lines are smudged, as if someone had run a hand over the charcoal after it was made, but the grimace of his mouth is clear. 

Liam shuts the book and goes to his bed, sprawling out and staring at the ceiling. He shouldn’t have looked in Harry’s notebook and he knows that, but that’s not what is bothering him. He wants to fix things, he wants to apologize the right way, he wants to know who those people are that he drew. The words that Harry threw at him make his stomach twist. He doesn’t want to be that guy who judges everyone before they even have a chance to introduce themselves. 

He’ll fix this, he promises himself. Somehow. 

~

Harry had disappeared during midterms and Liam had a feeling he was actively avoiding him, but he tried not to think about that and waited for his chance to smooth things over to the best of his ability. 

The opportunity arises on the 22nd of December, a day before Liam is leaving for home once again. 

The afternoon of the 22nd is a rainy one which is unusual for California, but needed. Liam thanks the rain for driving Harry inside when he rushes into the room as Liam is packing, soaked to the bone, his short hair plastered to his forehead and curling up at the ends. His teeth are chattering as he peels off a pair of ridiculous jean shorts and black t-shirt. Liam tries not to stare at the water beaded on his skin as he rummages through his dresser. When Harry drops his underwear to the floor, Liam looks away. 

“This isn’t supposed to happen here,” Harry says, the first time Liam has heard his voice since their argument. Liam finds himself going rigid at the sound as if Harry’s going to suddenly pick up where they left off. Instead he says, “Isn’t it called the sunshine state for a reason?”

Liam can’t stop the snort that escapes and looks back over to Harry who is now safely clothed in sweatpants and laying across his bed, his phone held above his face as he scrolls.

“That’s Florida.”

Harry tilts his head to squint suspiciously at him. “I thought Florida was, like… oranges.”

“I mean, they grow them there,” Liam says. “But I think California is the golden state or something.”

Harry hums thoughtfully. “So what do you grow here? Weed?”

Liam laughs. He feels the corners of his eyes wrinkle when he does and rubs his hands over them self consciously, like he could somehow flatten them out that way. “Ah, the land of cannabis and dreams.”

Harry starts humming the first line of Party in The USA and Liam shakes his head, going back to packing. His fingers fumble around slightly, nerves lighting at how easily conversation is happening. Is apologizing even worth a shot at this point? He doesn’t want to mess up and ruin whatever is happening now. And then Harry speaks again. 

“So are you finally leaving?” he asks. Liam’s stomach sinks. “It’s about time.”

“Sorry to inconvenience you.” Liam snaps, starting to boil beneath his skin. 

“Just thought you’d be out of here the second your last exam ended.” 

“Don’t you have any place to go? It is Christmas after all, where’s your family?”

Harry shoots Liam a raised eyebrow. “In England.”

“Shouldn’t you maybe, you know...go to them?”

“Couldn’t get a flight,” he replies quickly. “And since the studio is closed today I’d like to paint here without you up my ass about it so could you maybe hurry this process up?”

There it is, good ol’ guilt paying another visit. Liam gives a forceful exhale. Says quietly, “I’m not leaving until tomorrow.”

“Oh, fucking hell-”

“But you can paint if you want.”

“Thanks for the permission, but I’ll pass.”

“I can leave,” Liam offers, beginning to feel too big in the small dorm anyways.

“It’s storming.”

“I’ll go to Louis’-”

“Just finish packing. Jesus.”

Liam throws the shirt he was in the process of folding into his bag and flings his arms out. “Look, I’m fucking sorry, okay?” He yells. Harry rolls his eyes in the most infuriating way. 

“Yeah, you’ve already so eloquently apologized about my shit art.”

“That’s not what I meant! I just had a horrible roommate at the start of this semester and I’m a shitty person who judges other people before I know them. But I like your art.” 

Harry scoffs. “You’ve never even seen my art.”

Liam opens his mouth to protest, to tell him he’s seen the kids in the garden and the alleyway of England. The sneering man with smudged eyes. But then he remembers how he found them. 

“That road is pretty great,” Liam says instead. Harry rolls his eyes again.

The room falls into silence and Liam grabs his rumpled shirt again. Apparently that is the best an apology is going to get between the two of them. Harry is still scrolling through his phone and Liam’s traitor of a brain wonders if he’s texting his friends about him. They’re laughing at how uptight and annoying he is. A group of them are probably waiting for the moment Liam heads off to San Francisco to barge into the dorm and celebrate his absence. Liam snaps himself out of it.  _ This isn’t middle school, Liam.  _ He has to fill the silence.

“So, do you have any Christmas plans?” he tries. Harry shrugs, any air of malice already beginning to ebb. It’s strange how easily the mood changes with them. 

“Get plastered, eat my weight in… everything. Blast Mariah Carey. Maybe I’ll hang a bobble from the curtain. Throw some tinsel.” 

“You don’t have relatives out here or anything?”

“Nope.” Harry pops the P and finally sets his phone down, throwing his arm over his eyes. It’s probably to stop Liam from asking questions, and he does. But then he gets a text from his mom. 

_ Don’t forget to invite Harry! _

And, shit. Right. With the whirlwind of midterms he hadn’t had much time to talk to her and had completely forgotten about his little lie. He’ll just reply saying they broke up. No big deal. He types it out and everything. But then he thinks about the pitiful looks he’ll get and deletes it as fast as possible. He stares at the screen until the words blur. 

They’ll want pictures. And stories. His mom will buy Harry a present for Liam to take back to school for him. They’ll want to  _ Facetime _ . 

Liam looks at Harry and then back at his phone. He wonders if the boy is asleep, studies the even rise and fall of his chest, considering. And then it just bursts out. 

“Celebrate Christmas with me.” 

Harry’s chest falls still. There’s a pause and Liam can’t breath. Harry’s arm slides away from his eyes. “What?”

Liam doesn’t know what sudden burst of courage caused him to blurt those words out, but now it’s hanging in the air and the courage has fled with its arms raised high. 

“I just… um, you shouldn’t be spending Christmas alone, you know? I just didn’t… my mom, like…” he stops to collect himself and Harry props himself on his elbows. 

“I don’t know if you maybe like hit your head or something, but we don’t really get on, you and me, if you don’t recall.” He speaks slowly, as if he truly believes that Liam may actually have some sort of brain injury. 

“It would just suck for you to have to spend Christmas alone,” he says, hoping Harry will just decline his offer and leave it at that. 

Instead, he gives an unsure chuckle and says, “Your parents probably wouldn’t be too fond of me crashing the holidays.” 

Oh, if only he knew. “I’m sure my mom would be overjoyed. She actually asked me to invite my… roommate.” 

“Really?” Harry asks. His fingers are tugging lightly on his bottom lip and Harry Styles is actually considering going to Liam’s house for Christmas. “Could I think about it?”

Liam nods and zips up his suitcase, trying not to show how much he is internally freaking out. “Yeah, just let me know! I gotta go ask Louis something, but yeah. See you.”

Yeah,” Harry says, watching Liam leave with a tilted head and curious stare. 

 

Once Liam is in front of Louis’ door, he remembers that the boy had left for home earlier that day. So, despite the rain, Liam takes a walk. He probably looks absolutely pitiful, but the cool water feels good against his heated skin. 

If Harry agrees to go Liam is going to have to tell him the truth before he’s bombarded with a boyfriend interview from his mom. For a moment, as Liam stares at the splashes his steps make on the pavement as he circles campus, he hopes that Harry says no. But then he thinks about the way rain had beaded on his skin, and how shocked he seemed when Liam had offered. By the look on Harry’s face, Liam knows he doesn’t want to spend Christmas alone. 

Maybe this could work.

When Liam makes it back to the dorm, Harry is gone but his bag is packed and Liam figures it is going to have to. 

~

When Liam’s alarm goes off at six in the morning, Harry groans. 

“Liam Payne, we are not leaving yet because I just fell asleep ten minutes ago,” he states, words muffled into his pillow. Liam throws the covers off of him and stretches out. 

“Well, that’s your fault, buddy.” He turns on his bedside lamp and gets up just as Harry rolls onto his back. Liam grins impishly and grabs the top of Harry’s blanket only for him to wrap a hand around Liam’s wrist to stop him. 

“You don’t want to do that.”

At first Liam thinks it’s some sort of dramatic threat, but then then the sheet falls farther down Harry’s naked chest and it clicks. Liam yanks his hand away like he’s touched a hot pan and he crosses the room to get his towel with Harry’s laugh filling the room and bringing a flush to Liam’s cheeks. 

“I’m taking a shower and then I’m leaving. With or without you,” he says, the tail end of Harry’s laugh still trailing him as he heads down the hall. 

~

It doesn’t truly hit Liam until they’re in his green Outback. Harry is making himself comfortable, instantly slipping his boots off and adjusting his seat. Liam can see his bag laying on the backseat in his rearview mirror. This is weird.

“This is weird,” he says, slowly buckling his seatbelt. Harry gives him a look as he buckles his. 

“You did not drag me out here at this ungodly hour just to change your mind. Come on, your family is going to love me!” He looks over with an exaggeratedly wide grin and something in Liam settles. He pulls out of the parking lot with a hopeful heart because with the way they’ve started joking with each other, the comfortable way Harry is slouched in his passenger seat. Liam could almost call him a friend. 

And then the first hour mark hits. 

Harry had fallen asleep for twenty minutes max. with his sweatshirt sleeved arms crossed over his chest and his hood up, head resting against the window. Liam had been enjoying the drive, the usual crazy Los Angeles traffic still at an early morning lull, but then the sun is rising and Harry is yawning awake. Instantly, he starts to shuffle his legs. 

“Ooh, you should pull over,” he says, whole body beginning to wiggle. “You should really pull over.”

“Bro, we  _ just  _ got on the road,” Liam throws his head back, voice an octave away from whining.   

“And my bladder is  _ just  _ about to burst,” Harry repeats Liam’s tone. He starts tapping a beat on the dashboard and starts singing. “I gotta wee! I gotta wee! If you don’t pull over it’ll go everywhere! I gotta wee!” The last note is a screechy falsetto that has Liam swerving his car over to pull off the nearest exit and Harry cheers. Liam taps the brakes to send Harry’s stomach into the seat belt and he doubles over with an  _ oof _ , pressing his hand over his crotch desperately. 

“You  _ wanker _ ,” he hisses. 

Liam is wearing a smug grin as he pulls into the gas station. 

 

Pulling back onto the highway, they hit traffic. Liam groans as the car comes to a standstill, falling back against his seat. 

“This is your fault.”

Harry places a hand on his chest, trying to look offended with a mouth full of trail mix he picked up during his emergency stop. “Hey, if we had left at, like, midnight when I was actually awake and gotten there at four when I was ready to sleep, we would have avoided a lot of problems.”

“Six,” Liam corrects.

“What?”

“We would’ve gotten there at six.”

“Oh, God.” This time it’s Harry who falls back against his seat. “Six hours in this car with you.”

“You have a week with me, so you better get used to it.”

The conversation lulls and Liam turns up the music to drown out Harry crunching on almonds. The way the car is inching along is getting under Liam’s skin and he’s starting to wish he hadn’t picked up that coffee at the gas station, his knee bouncing and fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel. But then his favorite song comes on the Top 40 radio station and Liam involuntarily smiles turning it up even more. 

He’s singing along to the pre chorus, the chords building to the epic chorus and his favorite part, when the music cuts off. 

“I can’t stand that song,” Harry says, typing something into his phone. Liam hadn’t seen him grab the AUX cord. “Let me show you what real music sounds like.”

“What the fuck, Harry?” Liam tries to pull the cord away, but Harry swerves around his grip. “That was my favorite song!”

Harry’s eyebrows raise and Liam really wants to smack that look away. “Really?  _ That? _ ”

“Yes,  _ that.  _ What happened to the Harry Styles who was  _ so above  _ being judgemental?”

“Liam, I’m saving your life.” A song begins to play, folky guitar strumming jovially. And then there’s a banjo and Liam is going to find a way to crash in a sea of unmoving cars. “Just sit back and admire true musical craftsmanship.”

Liam thinks of all the excuses he’ll tell his mom when he shows up without Harry in tow, leaving him on the side of the highway. 

~

Eventually, the traffic loosens and Liam feels calmer, tense muscles relaxing as he actually begins to bop his head along to one of Harry’s songs. He ignores the smirking face in his peripherals. Until the eyes start to wander and hands become curious. 

“What are you doing?” Liam sighs rather than says. He can already feel the tenseness returning to his newly relaxed shoulders. 

Harry closes the glove compartment after finding nothing but the car registration and an old Nature Bar wrapper, moving on to the middle console. “Figuring you out,” he says. 

“Good luck with that. Don’t think you’ll get much from a scratched Kanye album.”

“Oh, I’ve discovered so much already.”

“You don’t say? What has my glove compartment lint told you?”

Harry closes the middle console. “Lack of lint, I’d say, which means you like neatness.” He says it like he’s sherlock deducing a crime, and just the cocky lilt of his voice, joking or not, is annoying. 

“Got all that from my car, huh? Not living in the same room with me for a semester?”

“Haven’t really been in the room much,” he says, settling in his seat again, apparently not impressed with any of his findings. “Anyway, twenty questions, go.”

“I don’t take orders like a dog.”

Harry throws his head back. “Liam, please, just entertain me.” 

“What’s your favorite color?” he snaps, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. 

Liam doesn’t have to look over to know the rise of Harry’s eyebrow. “ _ That  _ is your question?”

“Is that yours?” Liam retorts.

Harry sighs. “Green.”

“Probably because it’s the color of your own eyes.” Liam hadn’t meant to say it out loud and tries to smoothly cover his tracks with, “Not that I noticed.” 

“God, they are gorgeous, aren’t they?” Harry says, leaning towards Liam until his face is only inches away. Liam turns his head like muscle memory and their noses almost touch. Liam’s breath catches because, shit, they are  _ really  _ green. When Harry leans in farther Liam can’t back away and he feels his mouth part as if he’s expecting something. But all Harry does is reach for the steering wheel. “Whoa there, I’d like to make it to San Francisco in one piece.”

Liam swallows harshly and rips his gaze back to the road. He tests a laughs that dries up in his throat. “Um, your turn.” 

The current song ends and just before the new one begins, Liam’s heartbeat sounds too loud in his chest. Harry brings his fingers to his bottom lip as he thinks, pulling lightly at the skin, seemingly unaffected. Liam doesn’t understand why he can’t keep his eyes on the road, why he has to keep stealing glances. 

“If you could see yourself anywhere in the future, where would you want to be?” Harry asks the question like it won’t send Liam into a void of existential doom, just looking out the windshield while thousands of  _ I don’t know’s  _ and  _ God, the future is imminent ’s  _ rush through Liam’s mind. 

“I guess I haven’t gotten that far,” he says, hoping Harry will drop it.

“What are you even in school for? I’m your roommate and don’t know your major.”

“This is like talking to my Aunt Beth, dude, why all the life questions?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “If I’m going to be meeting your family I should probably know something about you.”

_ And if they think you’re my boyfriend,  _ Liam’s mind chips in with. His stomach twists with unease so he talks to shut his brain up a little. “Uh, yeah, I study Exercise Science and Physical Education.”

Harry tilts his head back against the headrest of his seat. “Honestly, I don’t know what I expected. Of course you’re not just a gym-rat, it’s your whole life.”

“Something tells me that when I look at my abs in the mirror later, I won’t care,” Liam snaps. After being made fun of for everything he has liked in the past, he gets a little defensive now that he’s older and isn’t afraid to be. 

“Never said is was a bad thing,” Harry says, holding up his hands. “It’s not like I don’t remember you in Louis’ room that first day.” He admits it like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t make Liam’s stomach twist with self consciousness, no matter how many muscles sheath it. 

“You do?” is all he can say.

“Yeah,” Harry looks over at him. “And it’s definitely not a bad thing.” Liam awkwardly chuckles and it’s like the music has gone almost silent though the volume dial wasn’t touched. He internally debates over if turning it up would be rude, if Harry would even care, but the passenger speaks again. “So why exercise science? How’d you fall in love with it?” 

At first, the vain reasons pop into his head, because it really is satisfying looking in the mirror and seeing progress in his body. He thinks about the sense of accomplishment when he does one more rep than he could before, when he finally nailed a muscle up, of the endorphins. But he knows that it’s not what hooked him. He’s not sure if he wants Harry to know. 

“It’s my turn,” Liam says. Harry doesn’t complain about him dodging the subject which Liam is grateful for. It gives him a moment to gather himself and focus on passing the blue Ford in front of him. California has long forgotten the rain from the night before and the sun glistens off of the road, shining in on Harry’s side of the car. The sky is a clear baby blue and Liam has to put down the car windows, has to breath in that oceanside air. 

Liam is a beach baby at heart, he and his sisters born and raised with sand between their toes. With school taking up most of his time he can’t really make it to the beach, but the promise of  a family outing there make him press the gas pedal down a little farther. 

“Your parents are going to think you picked up a homeless hitchhiker off the streets,” Harry says, and when Liam looks over at him he’s trying to push his hair back, but the wind picks it right back up again and blows it in every direction. Harry turns toward him and looks like a perturbed porcupine. Liam laughs into the steering wheel and Harry rolls his eyes, sticking a hand out the window, one of his big banded silver rings glinting in the sun.

“Trust me, they’ll just be happy now that I finally have a boy,” Liam says before the words actually process and maybe if for one moment of his life he thought before moving his mouth, he could avoid looks like the wide eyed one Harry is giving him right now. 

“Now that you have a boy?” Harry starts to shift so that one knee is resting on his seat and he’s facing Liam, his back blocking the sunlight and darkening his silhouette. “That sounds-”

“I just mean,” Liam rushes in, heart picking up speed. He’s never been good at lying on the spot, which is great now that he has set up his whole Christmas vacation around a lie when his mother could tell his bluffs before he could even start the first sentence when he was younger. “I mean like, a friend, you know. Or like, roommate. They’ll just be happy I’m bringing someone! It’s not like they think you’re my boyfriend.” Liam wants his soul to leave his body, turn around and slap him. Harry slowly nods. 

“Right…” The silence is back and Liam tries to focus on the warm air surrounding him instead of the nervous twitch of his fingers. And then Harry says, “So, how long have we been dating?”

Liam’s eyes go wide as he nearly swerves out of his lane. “What?”

“You’d never invite me on this trip out of the kindness of your heart.” He’s not angry, just shakes his head and closes his window. Liam closes his. “I should’ve guessed.”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam tries, hanging on to threads at this point. “Honestly, bro, I just thought you might not want to spend Christmas alone.” 

“Liam, you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you sure as hell don’t like me enough to want to spend the holiday with me.”

Liam shrugs. “Maybe it’ll help us bond.” He doesn’t sound too sure of his own words. By the look on Harry’s face, he doesn’t seem to buy them either. 

He sighs. “Did you tell your parents you were bringing your boyfriend home, Liam?”

When Liam’s mind races for an excuse, the distress shows on his face. Liam is amazed his mom hadn’t seen it happening at the dinner table, and honestly him getting this far playing pretend should be written in a world record book, but now he can feel the lie showing on his face in neon lighting. Well, he would have had to tell Harry eventually. 

“I may have said something like that, yeah…” The words come out quietly, like maybe they’ll dissolve in the space between his mouth and Harry’s ear. 

No such luck. Harry slowly closes his eyes and Liam swears he’s about to be punched. There’s about to be a brawl that sends them flying off the highway, he knows it. Liam braces himself as Harry takes a deep inhale and slowly blows it out. 

But all he says is. “You’re lucky I’m good with parents.”

“What?” Liam couldn’t have heard him right.

“You should have just told me, mate, we have to get our story straight. Okay, so when did you tell them this? How long have I been the light of your life? Your Prince Charming? How did I sweep you off your feet?”

“Harry, I don’t want to drag you into this. Like, I was being stupid and my mom was giving me that look, you know? I can tell her we’re just friends.”

But Harry doesn’t falter, doesn’t even consider that option. “I take it it’s been awhile since little ol’ Liam has had a date, huh? Well, I’ve only brought a boy home to my parents once and I think my mom would rather that never happen again, so it’ll be nice to be on the other end of the spectrum, greeted with open arms and all that.”

It’s the way that Harry tries to smile after that, because though his smiles may be few and far between around Liam, he can tell that this one doesn’t quite reach as far as the others have. 

“Harry…”

“Also, when’s your birthday?” Harry cuts in. “Like, we should probably get some of the basics down if we’re really going to sell this boyfriend thing.”

Liam sighs, letting it go. “August 29th.”

 

For the next three hours in the car, Liam and Harry learn each other. 

Harry was born on the first day of February in the middle of a snow storm and that’s why he claims to hate the cold. His little body wasn’t ready to be bundled up against the frigid air for the first two months of his life. Apparently that’s why he hates wearing clothes, too. 

Liam hates tomatoes but loves ketchup, Harry hates pickles but loves cucumbers. Liam could eat a whole chocolate cake by himself while Harry prefers vanilla, but they both would never touch a carrot cake. Maybe they aren’t so different after all. 

Harry wants to make a living from painting, but he isn’t quite sure how to do that yet and Liam isn’t quite sure how to do much of anything in the adult world, so they’re in this together. Harry doesn’t talk about his family that much, just says he has a sister who is the golden child to his mom and stepfather. His dad lives in Germany now. They don’t talk much anymore. 

He’s had a ton of girlfriends, though he’s not sure if Katie from year six counts. She was lovely, but made fun of 

the way Harry gelled his hair up to make it stick out all over, so. 

“But it just naturally does that,” Liam adds, playfully.

Harry glares at him. “Don’t make me break up with you, too.”

Liam tells Harry he has only had one boyfriend, Keegan from freshman year of college. He was a tall, dark, gorgeous senior and Liam was a shy nineteen year old trying to build the courage to step out of the closet now that he was in a more open environment and didn’t have to deal with high school dickheads. It consisted mostly of childish hookups in Keegan’s apartment, but when Liam found himself ducking his head and looking around to make sure nobody from school would see him leaving with flushed skin and swollen lips he realized he probably needed more time to figure this whole identity thing out. Oh, and him running into another boy leaving Keegan’s apartment one evening may have swayed his decision slightly, as well. 

“Wow, what a dick,” Harry says, after listening with an observant stare the whole time. Liam felt hot under the collar recalling the story with such an attentive audience. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve only had one boyfriend too. If you could even call him that.”

The hours had passed faster than Liam had expected once they started talking and before Liam new it they were passing the Welcome to San Francisco sign and Harry had interrupted him to put his window down again to take a picture. Yeah, Liam realized, he’s definitely going to stick his head out of the car on the Golden Gate Bridge. 

They pull into the driveway of Liam’s parents’ house as Harry brings up his old boyfriend and Liam is too stuck on that to truly realize that they’ve made it. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, shifting into park on the slanted road. 

Instead of answering, Harry gets out of the car. He stands in front of the house with fists on his hips, examining the painted lady with its white porch and trimmed street tree standing proudly in front, everything as picturesque as a movie scene, though Liam doesn’t know how to prepare Harry for the mess that could be greeting them through that front door. 

“It’s nice,” Harry says with a nod when Liam steps up beside him. “Reminds me of something, though.” 

“Harry,” Liam tries, needing to gather himself and run over their story one more time before diving into this. 

Harry has other plans. “Come on, let’s go.”

He strolls to the house, easy and breezy, with no care in the world, and Liam watches him stupidly before speed walking to catch up. 

“Harry!” Mrs. Julia watches the scene unfold curiously over her skinny glasses from her porch rocking chair, a small novel rested between her hands. Liam gives a quick wave and tries to smile, but assumes it looks more like a grimace as he skips up the stairs. “Harry, can we slow down for a second?” But he’s already knocking on the door, and Liam is not prepared. 

His mom opens the door too quickly, and Liam knows she was waiting by the door, probably running back and forth from her welcoming lasagna in the oven to the peephole. 

“Welcome, welcome!” She greets with arms out wide, an even wider smile stretched out on her face. Harry instantly bends down for a hug, wrapping his long arms around her waist and swaying slightly. It’s a genuine hug that leaves Liam shifting from foot to foot, not sure how to act normal while Harry is finding it so easily. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Harry says. “Liam has told me so much about you! You’re even more gorgeous than the pictures.”

And if anything makes Karen Payne more ecstatic, it’s attractive young boys giving her compliments. Her grin grows impossibly wider and she shakes her head, actually pinching Harry’s cheek. 

“Oh, you little rascal. No wonder you stole my little bear’s heart.”

“Mom.”

“Just call me Alfalfa,” Harry jokes, which, of course, makes Liam’s mom light up with a laugh, dragging Harry inside. Liam’s about to follow, because even though his sister’s car isn’t parked on the street he can never be too safe, but Harry glances over his shoulder with a mischievous smirk. 

“Oh, babe, could you grab the bags from the car?”

The pet name makes Liam’s heart falter. He’s good at this.

“Yes, Liam,” his mom so helpfully chips in. “Be a gentleman, dear. Harry, would you like some tea?”

Liam’s nose scrunches because he is pretty sure he has never had tea in this household. Ever. But he lets it go for the moment and reluctantly steps outside, trying to strain his ears to catch the sound of whatever his mother is saying. God, it has only been two minutes. 

He rolls his suitcase behind him, half filled with clothes and half with Christmas presents, and Harry’s duffle bag is slung over his shoulder. The hard corner of something inside of it pokes into Liam’s hip bone, but he’s not sure he wants to know what that is. 

He drops the bags by the stairs and find Harry and his mom in the kitchen. They’re sitting beside each other at the island, two tea mugs steaming in their hands. 

“Nicola and Ruth should be here later this evening. Let me tell you, they are so excited to meet Liam’s new handsome british boyfriend!” Liam’s mom says, grabbing for a piece of cheese from the plate on the counter. Liam was right about the lasagna, the smell of the sauce filling the small space. 

“I can’t wait to meet them, too. If you’ve raised them anything like you’ve raised your son, then I know they’re amazing.” 

They haven’t noticed Liam yet as he watches through the open wall of the living room. It seems almost real, their easy conversation, sunlight filtering through the window above the sink and painted across the burgundy cabinets. Harry looks ruffled in his wrinkled sweatshirt, hair still a mess, and Liam can imagine walking downstairs one morning to this. Liam can imagine falling in love with the sight. 

So he shakes himself out of it and barges into the scene. “Since when do we have cheese plates?” It’s the first thing he thinks of and his mom looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Harry lifts the mug to his mouth to mask a amused grin. He raises an eyebrow at Liam, and he deciphers that as a  _ get your shit together  _ look. “The food smells good,” he adds, moving to the opposite side of the island and crossing his arms on the counter.

“Thanks, bear, how was the drive?” She asks. He cringes at the nickname, hoping Harry wasn’t paying too much attention.

“It was fine.”

“It’s cute that you call him bear,” Harry says. Liam is about to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself there. 

“Oh, my, has he not told you that story?”

“Maybe I haven’t for a  _ reason,  _ mom.”

She waves a hand at him with a, “Shush, it’s cute,” and dives right into the tale of how Liam’s dream when he was five years old was to be a bear. It was weeks of him only talking to people in growls and grunts, begging his mom to cook him fish that he didn’t even like, and trying to run on all fours on trips to the beach which earned him a face full of sand. Harry nearly has tears in his eyes by the end of all the accounts.

“Okay, this has been great, but maybe I should give Harry a tour,” Liam says, trying to keep from ripping his hair out. 

“But I’m enjoying these stories so much,” Harry says.

“And he hasn’t even had his tea yet,” his mom adds. Harry backs up that point by taking a sip of the drink.

He smiles and says, “It’s so good, Mrs. Payne. Reminds me of home.” But while Liam’s mom is all flustered from the good review from the british boy, Liam sees Harry’s pursed lips, can see the struggle he is having keeping the distaste from showing on his face. He gently places the mug back onto the counter. “I think I am a little tired though, maybe Liam could show me upstairs.” 

“Oh,” she says, not hiding the crestfallen slump of her shoulder. “Well, I guess I should get back to the rest of dinner. Rest up, boys, I’m sure Ruth and Nicola will have many questions! It is so lovely that you’re here, Harry.” She looks at Liam when she says it, with a soft look that tells him she approves.

“Thanks, mom!” Liam says quickly, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him to the stairs before this can go any farther. He grabs their bags and skips steps on the way up, throwing the bags down on the floor and himself on the bed when he finally makes it to solitude. 

“This is going to be a long week,” he groans, staring at the crack in the ceiling he had woken up to nearly every day until college. His bedroom is small and simple with its faded sky blue walls and black comforter over his twin mattress. His brown desk and dresser take up most of the rest of the space and Harry looks strange standing there, out of place with his head so close to the ceiling and shuffling feet as he stands with his hands in his pockets and eyes wandering. 

“I think it went well,” he says, walking over to the desk and skimming fingers over the line of track trophies.  _ What is it with artists having to touch everything,  _ Liam thinks, remembering the charcoal smudges he would find from Miles all over his papers and comforter. 

He sits up. “You can’t just do that.”

Harry’s hand stills above the head of a little bronze man frozen mid-sprint and he slowly turns, looking at Liam curiously. When he doesn’t say anything, Liam continues. 

“You can’t just touch anything that catches your eye, you can’t just invade this space just because I invited you over. You can’t just start talking to my mom without and take this whole thing over while leaving my standing like an idiot on the sidelines not knowing what to do with myself!”

“I was just doing what you brought me here to do!” Harry throws his arms out to the side, thankfully remembering to keep his voice down. “You want to show your mom that you’re okay, right? That you’ve brought a good guy home? What was I supposed to do, not compliment her? Not start a conversation? I don’t understand you.” 

“I don’t know how convincing it will be if I’m stuck on the sidelines, not prompted on what to do or what’s going on.”

“It’s not rocket science, Liam, just act like I’m maybe someone you like to hang out around.”

Liam drops his face into his hands, sighing. “I can’t lie to my mom. I don’t know how I did it the first time.”

“Okay.” The bed dips beneath the weight of Harry sitting beside him. “You’re right. Maybe we should run over some things before I rush into it, yeah?”

Liam takes a deep breath before looking over at Harry, who is looking at him with true concern, his messy eyebrows furrowed above green, _green_ eyes. Liam nods. “That would be nice.”

Harry says that he needs to shower first and foremost, so Liam grabs him a towel and points him to the creaky wooden door down the hall. Liam lays back down on his bed while he waits and tries to muster up some kind of game plan, but only gets to the thought of allowing Harry to kiss him before he’s being pulled down into a dream of bitten lips and a british accent whispering  _ babe.  _

He’s only half asleep, really, because he feels the finger digging into his side immediately. Liam jerks and tears his eyes open to find his sister’s big brown ones staring down at him, glistening with expectation. Liam’s heart rate picks up because  _ no no no _ she can’t be here yet. 

“So, where’s the beau?” she asks, hopping onto the bed as if she was invited. Liam must’ve only been out for five minutes or so because if he listens carefully he can tell there is still water running through the pipes. He needs to get Ruth out before Harry comes back. 

“I think mom needs help with dinner, shouldn’t you go help her?” he tries. But Ruth isn’t here to play games. She glares at him. 

“Stop trying to get rid of me, I want to meet this Harry you’ve been so fond of.”

“Listen, he just met mom. I’d rather him not be bombarded by another family member in a matter of minutes.”

“I am a gem!”

“Ruth!” The water shuts off. Liam sits up. “You’ll meet him when we come downstairs!” 

Ruth rolls her eyes, getting off of the bed at the speed of a sloth trapped in a vat of honey. “I don’t see what the big deal is, honestly, but if it’ll get your tighty whities out of a twist-”

Liam cringes. “You’re turning into mom.”

“- I’ll go downstairs and wait like the patient angel that I am.” She turns with a flourishing wave of a hand. The other hand reaches for the door handle but nearly nails Harry in the stomach instead. 

“Oh,” Harry says. The only thing he is in is the towel, his fist holding it loosely around his hips. His hair is slicked away from his face and he schools his face into that smile made with half of his mouth, the way he must know is attractive. “Hello.” 

Liam swears he hears the thud of Ruth’s jaw hitting the floor. She’s not subtle about waggling her eyebrows in Liam’s direction before holding out a hand for Harry to shake. 

“You must be Harry! It’s so good to meet you. I’m Liam’s amazing big sister, Ruth,” she humbly introduces. 

“Ruth! It’s so nice to finally meet you, as well. God, good looks really do run in the family, don’t they?” he says with a wink. Honestly, Liam is surprised Ruth’s knees didn’t just give out right there. What she does do is giggle like a schoolgirl, finally stepping aside to let Harry through and taking his place in the doorway. 

“Well, I’ll let you two get ready,” she waggles her eyebrows again. “Don’t be too long, I want to start the annual scrabble tournament before Nicola shows up with all of her stupid rules. Oz is  _ totally  _ a word. I mean  _ The Wizard of Oz  _ for crying out loud! It’s like she-”

“Ruth!” Liam is a second away from dropping to his knees and begging. “ _ Leave.” _

She scoffs at him but waggles her fingers at Harry as she goes. Once the door clicks shut behind her, Liam lets his muscles relax and Harry laughs.

“A mess,” Liam sighs. 

“I like them,” Harry says, walking over to his suitcase beside the bed. Liam averts his eyes when Harry drops the towel. “They’re funny. It’s so different from my family.” 

Liam itches to ask what his family is like, how they’re so different, how Liam’s crazy family could possibly be better.  _ Who’s the angry man in your sketchbook?  _

“Are we going to kiss?” is the question that floats into the air instead. 

“Um. Like right now, or?”

“No, not right now!”  _ Unless you want to.  _ “I mean, like, around my family. We need guidelines or something because I feel like a fish flopping around on land right now.”

Harry laughs again and there’s a fist of annoyance clenching in Liam’s stomach at how unaffected he is about this ruse. Liam looks over to find him sitting cross-legged on the floor, now dressed in tight black jeans and a dark, flowy shirt, almost too sheer around his torso for a family gathering.    

“Alright,” Harry claps his hands and pulls his expression into seriousness. “Time for a plan. You know your parents best, right? What would they expect from you in a relationship?”

Liam thinks for a moment, but only has one memory to pull from. 

He had a girlfriend once in tenth grade. Her name was Lilah and Liam had tried his hardest to fall in love with her. He thinks he had his parents convinced, and she had definitely fallen for it, when he would bring her over for dinner and hold her hand beneath the table. He would kiss her on the cheek as she slipped her shoes on by the front door. But then the night of prom had come along and he found himself standing in the full length mirror that hangs on the inside of his bedroom door, the one that he can just see his arm in now, the one right over there. He stood with the tie he had finally tied perfectly after three tries and a YouTube video, too embarrassed to ask his dad. His suit was classic and black, pressed and fitted perfectly, and he knew his mom was waiting downstair with a camera in her hand and tears in her eyes.

Liam couldn’t do it. 

He ended up ripping the suit jacket from his shoulder to lay crumpled by his closet door and crawling into his bed, pulling the covers up to his ears and trying to think of anything other than Lilah wanting to slow dance and kiss, maybe she planned on going even further. But Liam couldn’t think about the way that thought made his skin crawl because panic had already wrapped it’s greedy hands around his throat. Because he should  _ want  _ that. 

When his mom found him there that night, wondering what was taking him so long and finding him trying to breathe, gripping his pillow to his chest, Liam told her he felt sick. At least that wasn’t a lie. 

She had run a hand through his hair that he had spent half an hour in front of the mirror trying to tame and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and down his cheek. His face was running hot, but only from the strain of holding in tears and the heavy pump of blood from his racing heart. 

“I’ll call her mom, okay? Let her know you can’t make it,” she had said. Liam jaw ground in frustration, at the thought of having his  _ mom  _ call his date for him, but he didn’t think he could have called her himself. He couldn’t hear the disappointment in her voice. So, all he did was nod and clench his eyes shut tighter, missing the comfort of his mother’s hand on his cheek, but happy she wasn’t there when the watery sob finally escaped his chest.

So his first relationship, if he could call it that, didn’t end too well, but the hand holding and cheek kissing had worked to convince his parents then and maybe the same could work now. Liam tries not to hate himself for reverting back to faking a relationship like he’s a confused teenager all over again, but he pushes the feeling down and shifts to his left so he can’t see his arm in that mirror anymore. 

“I think we need to hold hands and be close,” he says, picking at the duvet for something to do with his nervous energy. “But not over do it. I think they would know something was up if I was feeling you up every second, so.” Harry waggles his eyes, but agrees. 

“Okay, hand holding. I can do that. As I said, I’m great with parents. I can convince them that you’ve got a good guy.” Harry gives a proud grin and winks, pushing himself up to stand and holding a hand out.

Liam looks at him, thinks of how fast he put on the persona of “Liam’s boyfriend,” downstairs and thinks that maybe they can pull this off. He’s in too deep now to back out anyway, so he takes a breath, stands, and takes Harry’s hand. 

 

~

Liam’s family absolutely loves Harry. He’s all charm, complementing Karen on the lasagna at least five times. The best thing he’s ever had in his mouth, he swears, and then waggles his eyebrows at Liam which makes him burn red and his sisters burst out laughing. His mom gives a disapproving cluck of her tongue, but can’t dim her smile. Liam’s dad is mostly oblivious and worn out from work at the aerospace factory to notice much over dinner, but he does remember to ask Harry about football, and Harry knows a strange amount of Packers stats that has Geoff actually setting down his fork to discuss them. 

Liam can’t keep up with any of it though because he can’t stop watching Harry play his character, shooting Liam fond glances from across the table whenever his mom happens to be looking, like it’s scripted, perfectly timed. 

Just like Ruth, Nicola is smitten, challenging Harry to a scrabble duel, and then a second one because she refuses to believe that he’d beaten the undefeated. She wins the second round, but Liam is laying on the couch behind Harry and sees the letters he could use, watches him line the tiles up into big words only to play something for less points. And that’s not for show, it’s just him. Something twists in Liam’s stomach, do he trains his eyes on the hallmark playing on TV instead. 

Liam thinks he has made it through the first day safe and easy until his mom walks in with steaming mugs of hot cocoa for everyone. Harry gives a little cheer and pulls himself up onto the couch from the floor, bringing his knees up and pressing close to Liam’s side. Liam is sure he should stretch an arm across Harry’s shoulders, maybe press a kiss to his jaw or something, but all he can do is watch the steam rise from his favorite Harry Potter mug. 

“I’ve never seen the movies, you know. Or read the books,” he says, laying his head on Liam’s shoulder like it’s natural. “But around school I was known to have a magic wand.” 

The comment brings blush to Liam’s neck which, of course, makes Harry laugh. They don’t speak for the rest of the night until his mom tells them to go get some rest. Liam has never scaled the stairs faster. 

On the way to his room he grabs extra blankets from the hall closet and when Harry finds him laying them down on the floor beside his bed he looks at Liam like he’s lost his mind. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the floor,” Liam says before Harry can protest. But the boy just places a hand on his shoulder, pulling him up from where Liam is straightening out the blankets. 

“Are we supposed to be posing as boyfriends or not?”

“ … Yeah?”

“And what’s your mom going to think if she checks in on us in the middle of the night to find you on the floor?”

Liam stops and considers this, looking over the beginning of the makeshift bed of blankets piled on the floor. He knows Harry’s right but isn’t sure how to approach the new sleeping situation.

“Yeah, all right, I guess that makes sense.” 

“I mean, you can sleep on the floor if you really want to. But I’m not going to be the one explaining to your mom as to why my boyfriend won’t sleep in the same bed as me.” And with that Harry tugs his shirt over his head in one movement, tossing it aside. Then his hands quickly undo the button and zipper of his pants before yanking them off and dropping them by his shirt. He hops into bed like it’s his own and Liam is left still standing in the middle of the room with his clothes on and fidgeting hands. He looks at the spare blanket laid out on the floor one more time before dropping his shoulders along with his jeans, turning off the light, and climbing in beside the other boy. 

The only sound is their breathing, overshadowed by the occasional passing car only to be brought back into forefront, more prominent than before. With his attention on it now, Liam’s breath starts to fall uneven, too shallow no matter how hard he tries to control it, like he’s suddenly forgotten how to function. He hopes Harry doesn’t notice with his back turned to him. Maybe he already fell asleep…

“Stop wanking, mate. We aren’t that close yet,” Harry mumbles. 

Liam goes rigid, turning onto his side. “You’re disgusting.”

“But maybe I could give you a hand. Could probably be a good bonding experience.”

Liam turns onto his back again. “Why are you  _ like  _ this? Why do you have to just dig under my skin. I think we’re good and then you  _ have  _ to go a step too far.”

And then Harry  _ laughs _ which brings back the rage Liam felt when he first encountered his new roommate. He twists around, his back now pressed against the wall. Liam can feel his breath ghost across his cheek, still chocolatey, and Liam remembers that they didn’t brush, pressing his lips shut to keep his exhales contained. “I’m just trying to make you loosen up,” Harry whispers. 

“I’m fine.” 

Harry sighs. “Suit yourself, then.” He rolls over again. “But if you change your mind, I give killer blowjobs.” 

Liam grits his teeth, still staring into the nothingness over his head, but now when he closes his eyes images of Harry’s mouth fill the space. It’s a struggle to fall asleep thinking of anything other than his hands running through Harry’s hair, pulling on it as the boy kisses lower

and lower…

and lower…

~

Liam wakes up hard as a rock, Harry snoring beside him. Sighing, he wipes the stray image of pink lips and green stare from the corners of his eyes, letting the real life boy beside him replace the one from his dream. This Harry’s mouth is parted and eyelashes shadow his cheeks. The fingers curled by his head are covered in gray smudges and Liam has the vaguest memory of feeling Harry slip from the bed, cracking an eye open to see him scratching away in his sketch book, using his iPhone flashlight to see like the insomniac he has proven to be since moving into the dorm room. Liam hopes that means Harry will be passed out for a while and he’ll get some time alone downstairs. 

Loping to the bathroom, Liam’s hand mindlessly trails to the waistband of his pants and he lazily tugs at himself as he starts his shower. His mind is on the day ahead, what his family could possibly have planned, but then the hot water hits his chest and he’s thinking of Harry again. He snaps his eyes open, moving his face from the stream and turning the water colder, letting his hand fall from himself and grabbing the soap instead, not allowing his mind to go there again. 

He’s not sure why he expected to get even a second of a quiet morning with Christmas around the corner, should’ve known he’d be greeted by his mother and sisters sitting at the kitchen island with mugs of coffee in their hands. 

“Morning, Bear,” his mom greets. “How’d Harry sleep?”

“Is he awake yet?” Ruth asks.

“Yeah, I need to beat him in Scrabble again,” Nicola adds. 

“Wow, good morning to you guys, too,” Liam grumbles, sitting down beside his mom and across from his sisters, pouring himself his own cup. “Harry sleeps like the dead, so.”

“Oh, well do you know what he’d like for breakfast?” his mom asks. His sister’s eyes zone in on him and he swallows the scalding coffee harshly. Wincing, he tries to think of an answer, but the stares of his family push the word “eggs” from his mouth and he can’t go back now. 

“He likes eggs, I think.”

“You think?” Ruth challenges, eyes squinting. “Wouldn’t you know?”

“I do know,” Liam snaps, glaring back at her to ignore the jump of his heart. She’s not buying it, he can tell. She knows something isn’t right. “He likes eggs.”

“Okay, eggs it is!” his mom announces, and then the girls fall into talk of what kind of cookies they’re going to bake later on and Ruth finally looks away from Liam so that his shoulders can relax. 

Harry ventures down about an hour later, wearing Liam’s t-shirt and basketball shorts like that’s okay. He shoots Liam a wide smile, rubbing at sleepy eyes. 

“Morning, babe! With all that mattress space after you got up, I almost couldn’t pull myself out of bed,” he chuckles, ever so charmingly, and his sisters giggle behind their hands, grabbing baking supplies from the cupboards and filling up another mug of coffee.

“Those clothes look familiar,” Liam says, trying not to focus too closely at how the old shirt clings to him and giving him a glare instead. 

Ruth scoffs, handing the mug of coffee to Harry. “Aren’t boyfriends supposed to share clothes? It’s endearing, Liam, get with the program.” She rolls her eyes and Harry beams some more, throwing his arms out at his side, his his ridiculous bed hair puffed out all over the place. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking adorable!”

“Language!” Liam’s mom scolds, but the fondness in her eyes as she looks at her new family situation never wavering. Harry winks at Liam and sits down across from him, where his sister had originally been, and he’s still watching Liam, making him hot beneath the collar.

“What?” Liam asks, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You look cute in the morning,” Harry smirks, voice just as low. “Your eyelids are all droopy and your face looks so soft I just want to-” He reaches out and Liam pulls his head back an inch not knowing what to expect when Harry’s hand strokes down his cheek. Liam’s stomach clenches and he laughs a little uncomfortably when the hand drops, wanting to refill his coffee for something to do, but knowing his knees wouldn’t hold him if he tried. 

“Harry, darling, how do you like your eggs?” Liam’s mom interrupts, setting a pan on the stove. Ruth and Nicola have disappeared somewhere so Liam is the only one that sees Harry’s nose scrunch and eyebrows furrow. He opens his mouth to politely decline the offer all together, but then Karen says, “Liam told me that’s what you like for breakfast, so would scrambled be all right? I could always fry up a few.”

Harry’s eyes shoot over to Liam, and Liam can tell that eggs were the wrong answer, possibly the worst answer Liam could have given. Harry forces a thankful grin and Liam swallows back a laugh. 

“Scrambled is great! Thank you, Karen,” he says with sparkling teeth. 

“Any time, lovely,” Karen says with a smile of her own. Once she turns away, though, Harry’s smile drops. 

“So, boys, I haven’t even asked how you two met! You’ve been together for a couple months by now, I assume?”

Now Harry sits back, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell her this story, babe?”

Liam’s eyes widen and his mind races and thank god his mom is turned around so she can’t see how unsure he looks when he says, “He’s my roommate, so. That’s how we met.”

“Come on,” Harry chimes in before Liam’s mom can respond. “Tell her the whole story, tell her how I swept you off your feet.”

“Oh!” Liam exclaims, staring down Harry, ready to leap at him from across the island. “ Mom, I think Harry forgot to mention, he likes his scramble really runny. Like, basically sliding off the plate.”

Harry’s face pales and Liam is sure he’d speak up if it weren’t for the threat of vomit escaping his open mouth. 

Karen hums thoughtfully. “Is that a british thing?”

“No, I think it’s just a Harry thing, you know? He’s into really weird things, but that’s why I like him,” Liam says, and he almost wishes he had his phone right now to snap a picture of Harry’s face. Priceless. 

“Guess that’s why he’s into you, then.” Nicola sashays in just as the goopy eggs are placed in front of Harry, speckled with pepper. 

“Hope you like them, dear.”

Harry smiles up at Liam’s mom. “They look great! Thanks so much!”

Watching him hesitantly scoop the eggs into his mouth while trying to keep his face in check as he chews, mentally preparing himself before each harsh swallow, is worth this whole trip in Liam’s opinion.

~

Harry is saved halfway through his meal by Liam’s dad waltzing in from upstairs, already in jeans and a polo, announcing the need for a brave volunteer to help hang Christmas lights. Both of the boys stand, Liam wanting space from the lie only he can feel between him and his mom, and Harry wanting as much distance from the yellow mush on his plate as he can possibly achieve. Geoff raises an eyebrow at his son.

“Preferably someone who can climb up a ladder without shaky knees.” Liam makes an affronted sound and puts a hand to his chest. 

“Aw, someone’s afraid of heights now, is he?” Harry needles, taking one last sip from his coffee mug.

“Hey,  _ babe _ .” Liam lets the pet name sizzle bitter on his tongue. “Don’t you want to finish your breakfast first? Wouldn’t want you feeling faint on top of that tall ladder.

“Really,  _ babe,  _ I’m full.” Harry insists, giving Karen a polite smile as he slips past Liam to follow Geoff to the front door.

Liam finds himself stuck in the kitchen with the girls all day, baking up a storm, and that would be fine if Ruth wasn’t insistent on getting to know everything she possibly can about Harry. 

“Why don’t you go out and ask him?” Liam questions, rolling out sugar cookie dough. “I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about life in England.” 

“I just want to know what his parents are like,” she plows on, ignoring her brother completely. “Like, you’ve talked to his mom on the phone before, right? Is she nice?”

“Um,” Liam stalls, pressing into the dough a little too roughly and tearing a hole in the middle. His mind floats back to his and Harry’s car conversation, the one about his mother not being happy when he brought another boy home, not having open arms for her son, and he’s not sure he has wiggle room to create a lie for this one. “He doesn’t really talk to her much,” he settles on, pressing a Christmas tree shaped cookie cutter down to the flour covered counter. Thankfully, his sister knows to leave that topic alone. 

Later that night Liam is on the couch while Ruth finds a Christmas movie just like the night before. Nicola is already setting up Scrabble and there is a plate of freshly baked cookies on the coffee table supposedly for Santa, but they all know the plate will be empty before that jolly man has a chance to make it through their nonexistent chimney. 

After hanging the lights and the rest of the family only hearing a suspicious scrape and thud twice, Harry and Geoff shuffled in wiping sweat from their forehead and Harry had yanked his shirt over his head. Against his own will, Liam’s breath caught in his throat and he had looked away only to find his mother waggling her eyebrows in his direction. 

She had offered Harry some water and he had gratefully accepted only to pass out on the couch before the glass had reached his hand. 

“I told you he sleeps like the dead,” Liam says now, as Harry just begins to blink awake, eyes lighting up like a child at the sight of cookies. He slides to the floor and grabs two, munching on them with his back against the bottom of the couch. 

“I love it here,” he says after swallowing, mouth speckled with crumbs. Liam’s eyes shoot over to him because that sounded real. Sounded way too natural and real. 

“Well you’re welcome here absolutely any time,” Karen says. 

“Only if you beat me at this game,” Nicola challenges. Harry is sprawled out on the other side of the Scrabble board in no time, game face on as he arranges his tiles. 

The warm Christmas Eve night goes on around Liam and he would love to sit back and enjoy it, but all he can really do is think of how genuine Harry had sounded. All Liam can think about is this being a thing, Harry being a part of his family. He wonders if he could ever get used to that. 

All he can do is look at the way Harry is lying out on his stomach, back arched, and think of the day he found him naked in their dorm, the sunlight glowing over the smooth skin of his back. 

There’s a moment when Harry plays a word, a high scoring one apparently because Nicola nearly flips the board in outrage. After everyone has laughed about it and fallen back into their separate conversations, Harry looks over his shoulder at Liam and sticks his tongue out, shaking his butt as if saying, “enjoying the view?”

It’s a moment between them, when no one is looking, not for show, not for the lie, just because. And that makes Liam’s stomach flutter, makes him smile back for real. Just between them. It’s a moment that feels so real that he wonders what Harry would do if Liam crawled over to join him on the floor. What would he do if Liam took his chin in his hand to press a kiss to his lips?

Nicola wins the game, but only because Harry doesn’t want to be kicked out of the house, and afterwards they all eat chinese takeout from the boxes, all huddled around the coffee table, everyone sneaking cookies between bites. 

Harry excuses himself afterward, saying he has something he needs to work on, but not letting anyone know what it is. 

“Just boring art stuff for school. I don’t want to forget to do it so I thought I’d just get it out of the way now.” 

“You should show us some of your art sometime,” Ruth says from the lazy boy chair. It’s the first sign of shyness Liam has seen from him then, his chin tilting down a bit and smile on the side of timid. 

“I’ll show you,” he says to her, but looks at Liam. When he turns to hop up the stairs, Liam wonders what Harry would do if he followed him. What would he do when Liam shut the bedroom door? Maybe he’d show Liam his art right then. Maybe he’d show him something more. 

But instead of finding out, Liam lays down on the couch, wondering how many things he has let slip by because he’s been so afraid, because he’s gripped life by the reins too tightly. When that begins to stress him out too much, he shuts his brain off to watch the Grinch sled helplessly down a mountain.  _ It’s okay, Mr. Grinch _ , he addresses in his head.  _ I think I’m losing control, too. _

~

There’s something about waking up on Christmas morning that will always make Liam feel like a kid again. Christmas music plays from the stereo in the kitchen and there is the telltale sign of the annual chocolate chip pancakes and bacon being made, clinks and sizzles joining the beneath Bing Crosby’s croon. They’ve never had a Christmas tree, never really had the room for one and always content to just gather around the little fireplace that stays unused beneath the television every day of the year except for this one. Liam isn’t sure why someone chose to put a fireplace in a Californian house, but waking up on the couch and looking over in the soft light of morning to see flames flicking and smell the logs burning, he’s thankful for it and the nostalgia it brings. 

He stretches arms over his head, feeling heated and gross in the same clothes as yesterday. His mouth is unbrushed and tastes stale, he thinks he can still feel a cookie crumb stuck to his chin. Running a hand over his stomach, he can feel his abs getting softer, but with one smell of the aroma wafting from the kitchen and he can’t find it in himself to care. 

It’s too quiet for his sisters to be up and it’s nice, this quiet little morning. He remembers racing his sisters down the stairs when he was little to tear into the gifts by the hearth, his parents calling for them to slow down as they grabbed their camera, and his heart aches a bit at how old they’ve grown, how significant these little changes feel. 

Eventually Liam tears himself from the couch and ambles, bleary eyed, into the kitchen. He’s never been so ready for coffee and bacon in his life. 

“It smells so good, mom,” he says as he walks through the doorway. 

“Why, thank you, darling,” a voice says with a faux high pitch. Harry is standing at the stove in only sweatpants, arms tan from the work he did outside yesterday, torso long and lean. He’s adding pancakes to the pile of them stacked on a plate on the counter while Karen watches from the island, sipping on a glass of orange juice and nibbling at a strip of bacon. Liam lets out a sigh and plops down on the stool beside his mom. 

“Merry Christmas, Bear,” she says, rubbing a hand over his shoulders. “Sleep well? You conked out pretty early.”

“Yeah, I was left all lonely upstairs,” Harry adds, looking over his shoulder to show his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. 

“You snore too loudly anyway,” Liam grumbles.

“So grumpy in the morning,” Harry teases, shaking his head and turning back to the food. 

The sisters come racing down the stairs only minutes later, pushing past each other like they’re still five and seven. Geoff comes stumbling in after them, yawning and rubbing a hand over his grey beard, shaking his head at Harry. 

“Our guest sure has made himself comfortable,” he says, starting a pot of coffee. “Don’t they have shirts in England, son?”

Though the words are meant to be some sort of a scold, Geoff’s face is nothing but light because his parents have already fallen for Harry. And by the twinkle in Ruth and Nicola’s eyes whenever they look his way, they aren’t far from falling for him, too. 

“Oh, hush, Harry has made our boy so happy he could walk around naked for all I care,” Karen says. Liam’s eyes widen and the girls giggle.

“I second that!” Ruth exclaims, passing by Harry and smacking his ass as she goes. 

“Feisty lot you are!” Harry says, flicking off the stove and turning to place the plate of pancakes down in front of everyone. Even as he begins to fork breakfast into his mouth, the huge grin never vanishes. 

~

When Liam was little, Christmas was a struggle for his parents. Hours were cut at the factory his dad worked at and they did everything they could to pull together and make it the best for the kids. As he grew up, Liam had dreamt of the day he could give his parents just as much, and though the presents he brought aren’t the best, their faces light up like he gifted them a new car. 

After opening the red sweater with the word San Francisco scrawled across the chest and swearing it’s the best thing he has ever been gifted and pulling it on immediately, Harry watches from Liam’s side, the fire crackling behind him, and everything is going great until Ruth speaks up. As usual.

“Liam, did you get Harry anything?” 

“I just… I was-” Liam stumbles over his words, face growing red because, yeah, it probably looks a little strange that he didn’t give his boyfriend a Christmas present. 

“I asked him not to get me anything,” Harry swoops in, saving the day. Liam is about to quietly thank him when he says, “But,” He adds with a cocky smirk. “I have something for all of you. And something for Liam.”

“What?” The word is pushed out of Liam in shock as Harry jumps up and races to Liam’s room. 

“One point Harry,” Nicola snickers. “Zero to Liam.” Liam throws a pillow at her. 

When Harry returns he’s holding two canvases about the size of his chest, the faces turned towards him. His face is lit up like a kid in front of his class, ready to show off for show and tell. “Alright, everyone close your eyes. You too Liam.” 

They all follow along and one of the canvases is being placed in Liam’s lap. He runs his thumbs along the rough surface, feeling the bumps of dry paint and soon Harry is counting down from three. 

“And… open!” 

“Oh, Harry, it’s beautiful!”

“I’m dying. That’s amazing, it’s going in my room.”

“No way, I’m smuggling it away when I leave today.”

Even Liam’s dad adds a, “Son, you really do have talent. That looks great.”

But while they all gawk at the painting that Harry is presenting, all Liam can see is a road. 

It is painted in gray, the paint running smoothly down the canvas, a colorless sidewalk on either side, and the sky at the top is swirling with ashy clouds. It’s like every road that Miles stayed up until four in the morning painting, the kind that mysteriously got paint all over Liam’s side of the dorm, the kind of painting associated with folk music droning on all night and everything Liam swears to hate about artists. It’s just like the road painted on the canvas Liam has turned to face the wall back at school. Except that it isn’t like that at all. Because on either side of this road is Liam’s neighborhood. 

It’s the place he grew up, the only place he really knows, every house in vibrant color against the monochrome backdrop. Liam’s yellow house is in the middle, standing tall and proud, a string of Christmas lights lining the roof edge. 

It’s beautiful and thoughtful and Liam swallows down the swelling emotion in his throat. Gripping the canvas tighter, he looks up at Harry who is still beaming over the other canvas, one with a family of bears: a mom, a dad and three cubs playing at their feet. The father bear has a football beneath one paw and Christmas lights hanging over one shoulder, the mother bear has a crown falling off her head. There are pieces of a scrabble board scattered around in one corner and a plate of cookies in the other. Liam thinks he can see his mom’s eyes tearing up and Ruth makes grabby hands towards it until Harry hands it to her. He sits down next to Liam as everyone still looks over it, the girls screeching over every detail. Liam’s side burns with how close Harry is, now hyper aware of his presence. 

“So  _ this _ is the art thing you disappeared upstairs to finish last night,” Nicola announces like she’s Sherlock Holmes and deduced the impossible. 

Harry raises his hands up in front of him. “You caught me. You all have been so welcoming, I wanted to give you some sort of thank you. I know it’s not a lot, but I could take it back and repaint it when I have some more time and it won’t be as rushed if you want-”

“Harry,” Liam’s dad interrupts, smiling at him from the couch. “It’s great. Everyone loves it.”

Harry smiles like he was gifted the moon and all the stars above. He turns to Liam, face close with those eyes, green, green,  _ green _ . 

“Do you like yours?” He asks. 

Liam nods and whispers, “Thank you.”

Harry leans in slowly then, until his mouth is a breath away. Liam freezes, heart stuttering, and then a mouth is pressing to his cheek instead, the corners of their mouths nearly catching, but not quite close enough to. 

Someone whistles and Harry smiles, knocking their foreheads together. Liam takes a deep breath and then stands, excusing himself to the bathroom. 

 

The house gets busier as the day progresses and the Aunts and Uncles and Cousins start heading over for dinner. Karen rushes around giving orders and checking the ham, mixing and stirring and pouring so much her arms are going to be sore for days afterwards. Geoff sighs and tries to find football on the television.

Ruth and Nicola put up some last minute garland and other decorations around the kitchen and then Karen is calling Liam and Harry from where they were setting the dining room table. Just before they enter the kitchen, though, she holds a hand up. 

“Wait right there!” They both freeze, glancing at each other in confusion. “I need a picture of you two!” 

“Oh,” Harry chuckles, straightening his new sweater. “I thought there was a spider or something.” He slings an arm around Liam’s shoulder and Liam tells himself to keep his posture soft and comfortable. Harry is warm and smells like cinnamon and Liam could probably deal with staying this close to him more often. Harry tilts his head to the side as Karen lifts her phone but then she gets a puzzled look on her face. 

“Wait, what’s that?” She motions above their head and they both look up to find a small green branch tied with red. It’s then that Liam goes rigid and his neck turns the same color. Harry, on the other hand, looks delighted. 

“Mistletoe! I’ve always wanted to do this!” he exclaims. 

Liam shakes his head, but his mom waves them on. “You boys have been so reserved! Bear, I get that I’m your mom, but it’s the season of love.”

Liam looks up at Harry with a panicked expression, eyes begging him to step in with the pristine lying skills he’s been showing. Instead, Harry places a hand on the side of Liam’s face, thumb pressing gently just below his eye. Harry’s other hand slinks around Liam’s lower back. 

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he murmurs, lips following the words and bridging the space between them. Blood pounds in Liam’s ears and all he can feel is their contact, the fingers at his hip, the palm on his cheek, the soft lips lingering on his. Harry pulls away only to lean in one more time and Liam finds himself leaning forward expectantly when Harry pulls away for real, letting out an exhale of disappointment when all he is met with is air. 

Liam doesn’t remember much from Anatomy, but he’s pretty sure his ribcage can’t handle this kind of pressure. Harry’s tongue darts out and Liam watches it, biting down on the inside of his cheek. Karen smirks from behind her phone. 

“That’s more like it. I don’t know about other moms, but I want to see my boy happy and in love.”

The word  _ love _ tears Liam’s eyes from Harry’s mouth and down to his socked feet. 

“Let’s finish up the table,” Harry says quietly, and Liam is happy to follow him out of the kitchen, trying not to pay attention to the way their fingers linger against each other’s as they pass the diningware around. 

~

Liam isn’t only the baby of his immediate family, but he was the baby of his extended, too. 

That is until his older cousins decided to all reproduce at the same time. 

Close to ten children under the age of eight take over the house like they own the place, racing up the stairs and around the kitchen island, sticky fingers finding the food on the counter and curious noises coming from the second floor. It’s no use trying to wrangle them because once you gather one, by the time you look away to find another the first one will be racing away, laughing maniacally with their new barbie doll held high over their head. 

Liam surveys the house for Harry once things start to get wild, wondering where he stands on the whole crazy children thing, wondering if it’ll make him uncomfortable. He finds him in the middle of the living room, though, the five year old twins latched to each of his legs and seven year old Amelia demanding a piggy-back ride. 

The anticipated look of annoyance on his face isn’t there, instead he is throwing his head back in a laugh as Amelia struggles to climb on to his back and the twins tickle at the back of his knees, screeching like hyenas as Harry’s legs wriggle around and he tries to walk.

So, it’s not very surprising when dinner begins that Harry is found at the kids table, perched on one of the smaller chairs as the horde of little ones fight about who will sit beside him. 

Liam finds himself smiling fondly at how the tall boy is hunched over at the table, telling the kids that none of them should want to sit beside him because his arms are too big so they’d all get elbowed in the head. He emphasized his point by rubbing his elbow into four year old Robbie’s ear which sends everyone into another fit of laughter. Harry beams and all it does is make the kids want to be near him even more. 

Sitting among mingling aunts and uncles, Liam falls mostly unnoticed, but he doesn’t have a problem with it. It’s like he’s watching from behind an invisible cloak, the first moment of peace he’s felt this whole trip. He sits back and eats slowly, catching bits and pieces of each conversation as they pass by. The kids table is having a ball, so much so that Aunt Marion has to tell them to settle down before someone chokes. 

“Sorryyy,” Harry drawls with a guilty face and all the kids follow. Liam’s heart warms and he hides a smile around a bite of food. 

The invisible cloak drops to Liam’s feet when a fork clinking against glass resounds around the room. 

“Excuse me, everyone, but I’d like to say a few things,” his mom announces from her seat. The hum of voices dampen to a lull and Harry shushes the kids, hunching over with a finger pressed to his lips like it’s a game. “I am so happy to have everyone here for another amazing Christmas celebration! Thank you, also, for welcoming Liam’s boyfriend into the festivities as well.” The sentence ends in the choked off way they do when Karen is getting emotional. Liam shakes his head affectionately at what a sap his mom can be, but then she looks at him with tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. “As a lot of you know, Liam didn’t have the best time in school. He’s always been quite reserved, had a hard time finding a place to fit. So many countless days he would come home wiping his eyes or hiding a bruise on his arm from where a kid shoved him into a locker, you know? I was terrified to send him off every morning.”

Liam can’t breathe. Every eye is on him; quiet, supportive smiles and looks of pity that turn him into an ant burning beneath a magnifying glass. Harry is staring at him, green eyes focused and intense, all signs of the playfulness from the day vanished. 

“I thought that all the worrying would go away once he graduated. He found his place in the gym, fell in love with working out and decided what he wanted to do. I was so happy for him, but them he was packing up the old Outback to go learn more about what he loved and I was left worrying then, too.” She wipes at her eyes and Liam sinks lower into his chair. “But he finally found a place to fit. He started making friends. And now we have Harry here, a wonderful boy who has taken such good care of our Liam’s heart. So, thank you, Harry,” she says, raising her glass towards him. He gives a polite nod, lips quirking up in the best smile he can muster after what she just lay out on the table, now looking ridiculous in the smaller chair with five year olds surrounding him. Liam could laugh about it all if he didn’t feel embarrassment knotting at the back of his throat. “Thank you for loving our Liam, for being so wonderful. And thank you, everyone, for another holiday well spent. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Everyone cheers back, all except for Liam, who keeps his eyes on the tablecloth and ignores the burn of Harry’s stare boring into his temple. Liam doesn’t eat anything else after that.

Thankfully, all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins pack up to leave after that. Liam hugs everyone goodbye, spinning little Robbie around for good measure and plastering on a fake smile as everyone says their goodbyes. 

Nicola is heading back to her home in Colorado to get there in the early morning so they say goodbye to her once the house is back to just them, tight hugs as their mom cries even more. It’s when Nicola gets to Harry, hugging him like family too, that Liam slips on his running shoes. Because Harry is looking at Liam over Nicola’s shoulder with eyes that say they should talk, and Liam can’t do that right now. 

So, thankful that he stayed in old sweatpants all day, he sneaks into the hallway to silently pull off his shirt and slip out the door.

~

Running has always been Liam’s therapy. At times when maybe he should have been seeing a counselor and facing his feelings, he has run. Instead of feeling the nervous shame of being different he’s chosen to feel the heavy pump of blood and ache in his thighs. His mind is wiped blank and his world is shrunken down to each breath and every step. The hills burn through his muscles as he pushes himself to reach the top and it takes all of his focus to get there so that there was no room for the harsh words spat at him in the hallways or how many days are left until graduation. And now there’s no room for the boy waiting back at his house and all of the questions he’s sure to have. There’s no room to hold regret for every lie he has told up to this point. Just inhales and exhales and fire through his veins. 

~

He gets back home a little after an hour later, lungs desperate for air, not used to his old route after so long. The sky is stained inky black and the air is cool so he walks the sidewalk in front of his house a few times, telling himself he’s slowing his heart rate down and not ignoring what waits for him inside. A pang of sadness hits him when he sees Nicola’s car gone from the driveway. 

When he musters up enough courage to walk through the front door, the house is quiet and dark. Everyone must have been worn out after the long day and headed to bed, but his mom left the kitchen light on for him and there’s a slice of apple pie and cold water bottle waiting for him on the island counter. Liam smiles at the sight and sits on one of the stools, not noticing the picture until he does. 

The little phone-to-polaroid printer that Liam got for his sister was put to good use he can see. It’s the picture from earlier, him and Harry beneath the mistletoe. Liam can’t stop staring at it, Harry’s arm pulling their waists together, the hand on his face. It’s all Liam’s ever wanted, really, to bring a boy home for Christmas and kiss like nobody's watching. He’s wanted somebody to love him and not hide it, not make him sneak into his apartment late at night, he has wanted to hold somebody’s hand and kiss their cheek and have it be real. 

But this isn’t real, he reminds himself. They started out their relationship hating each other and Liam isn’t sure what made Harry want to be around him enough to pretend to be his boyfriend, to try to convince Liam’s parents that he’s happy, but it’s not real. And it never could be. 

There’s writing on the blank strip at the bottom of the polaroid, Ruth’s swirly scrawl. 

_ Talk to him. _

Liam shoves the picture into the damp pocket of his sweatpants and shoves the slice of pie into the overflowing fridge. All he wants to do is shower and sleep and forget about the kiss and what his mom said at dinner. He stays beneath the scalding water until it begins losing its heat and his skin is flushed pink, fingertips getting pruny. 

He steps out with a sigh and grabs his gross sweatpants from the floor, wrapping a towel around himself and tiptoeing into the hall. His bedroom door is cracked open and low, orange light filters through the gap. When Liam slips into the room, hoping Harry passed out, he’s found at the head of the bed in only his boxer-briefs, sketching beneath the light of Liam’s bedside lamp. 

Liam doesn’t say a word as he pulls underwear on, only dropping the towel once they’re secure around his hips. It’s while he’s tugging on an old white t-shirt that Harry finally says the words Liam had been dreading. 

“Can we talk?”

Liam turns around, leaning back against his dresser. “What do you want to talk about?” he asks, trying for nonchalance. 

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Liam… “

“It doesn’t matter, Harry,” Liam snaps a little too harshly. “You’re here for a week, just to enjoy Christmas break and then we go back to our separate lives. My past doesn’t matter, okay?”

“Of course it matters.” Harry is looking at him with that intense stare again, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “I want to know you, Liam.”

“Why?”

“Because I think we’re more alike than we think we are.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You, the guy with twenty friends piling into our dorm at once and stopping you in the halls and inviting you to everything. Don’t pretend like you get what it’s like for people not to want you around.”  

Harry’s face hardens, voice lowering. “I know what it’s like.”

“Oh, right, did a girl reject you in fifth grade? Tragic, honestly. How did you ever-”

“My parents don’t talk to me.”

Silence falls between them, the air between them suddenly fragile and thin. 

Liam asks, “Why?”

Harry runs a hand over his face and closes the sketch pad, setting it on the nightstand. “Can you at least come sit down or something? Jesus, I feel like I’m being interrogated.”

Liam does, perching himself on the end of the mattress. 

“Okay,” Harry begins. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to not be accepted at school. I had never been scared to leave the house in the mornings. I used to have this.” Harry motions around the room. “A warm family waiting back home for me, you know? But then, when I was eleven, my dad just didn’t come home from work. My mom sat my sister and I down and told us they needed some time apart, that they hadn’t been loving each other like a mummy and dad should and maybe some alone time would fix it. But,” Harry shrugs and Liam holds his breath, knowing the only place this story can go from here. “The next time I saw him was when I came home from school to his car in the driveway, boot open and suitcases inside. He kissed my sister and I on the foreheads and told us he’d let us see his new place soon. That it would be okay, cool even, because now we had two houses instead of one. That we would have way more room for toys and shit, or whatever,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t want two houses, but that’s okay. We never were invited to see that new house anyway.”

A hand clenches around Liam’s heart. He could never imagine his dad stepping out of his life like that. He remembers the angry man that Harry drew and wonders if that’s him. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” he murmurs.

“It’s whatever. Dads leave, I got over it,” he brushes it off.  _ No,  _ Liam wants to say.  _ You didn’t deserve to be left.  _ But Harry carries on. “I was mostly concerned for my mom, but she seemed to be okay, even start dating again pretty soon after that. I wasn’t that angry about it either because fuck my dad, right? She deserved better.” Harry is picking at the duvet, rubs it between his fingers, and Liam wants to grab his hand to stop him, to try to comfort him, but his own hands stay on in his lap. “I thought she had found better when Robin came along. And maybe he was better, maybe he was a good husband, I don’t know. But he wasn’t a very good dad.

“I’ve always loved to draw, yeah? Ever since I picked up a crayon in primary school, I was hooked. But when I started getting older, my drawings changed from trees and puppies to dreams I would have. I’ve always had pretty crazy dreams and I thought it was so cool to be able to bring them to life on a piece of paper. The only problem was, sometimes I would dream of boys.”

Liam closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next part of the story that hits close to home. He remembers the slurs said under breath by passing peers and can only imagine what that kind of hate felt like coming from family. He scoots over and takes Harry’s hand, he has to.

Harry squeezes his hand, giving a quiet chuckle and continuing. “One morning he was sitting at the kitchen table with some of my sketches in his hand. I guess they had been sticking out of the book I’d left downstairs. He blew up at me, screamed that he wouldn’t have a  _ queer _ in his house. My mom told him to calm down, that I was young, that it was a phase, and it blew over. 

“I didn’t want to bring Matt home at first, but we were getting so close,” Liam tries to keep up as Harry flashes forward in the story. “I was always over at his house pretending to study, and he wanted to meet my family. I told him it was okay, that we could walk to my place after school that Thursday. It was a stupid idea, but Robin was supposed to be at work. 

“I guess he got home. We had barely made it through the door, were about to head up the stairs, his hand in mine, when Robin asked what we thought we were doing from the other room.” Harry laughs a little, eyes far away and stuck in the memory. Liam squeezes his hand again. His own heart drops just as teenage Harry’s must’ve been that day. “I thought I was going to be sick,” he says, confirming Liam’s thought. “He kicked Matt out and threw me against the wall. He got in my face and told me that my mom couldn’t treat me like I was five, that I was old enough to make my own choices and that if  _ unnatural  _ behavior was what I chose, then he could choose not to view me as a son.  _ And I don’t provide a free roof over the head of a boy who isn’t family, who doesn’t respect me,”  _ He says it in a deep voice, mocking what his stepfather’s face must have looked like. Liam knows then that the angry man Harry drew was Robin. He feels anger swell in the pit of his stomach. 

“I tried to deal with it, but Matt broke up with me, said it was dangerous for us to be together, but I knew he just didn’t want to deal with my baggage. We were sixteen, I couldn’t blame him. And eventually I didn’t want to deal with it, either, so I left. I packed my bags just like my dad had and my mom just watched, didn’t even try to stop me. ‘If this is what you really want,’ she said.” Harry scoffs. “So, yeah. I kipped with my friend and the first moment I had after graduation I applied for a U.S. visa and here I am. The only family to really reach out to me is my sister, so. That’s that.”

Harry takes a shaky breath and Liam follows. Their connected hands feel a little awkward now that the story is over, so Liam drops the grasp. 

“Sorry for dropping all of that on you,” Harry says. “That was a lot.”

Liam shakes his head. “So, it wasn’t that you couldn’t get a flight to see your family this Christmas, was it?” 

It’s Harry’s turn to shake his head. “I haven’t been back to England for a few years now. I’ve made family here anyway, so I’d rather spend my time here than with nowhere to go over there.” Harry yawns and Liam catches it, leaving his spot to sit against the headboard beside Harry. They both stare at the wall. 

“I’m glad you decided to come here with me.” Liam lets the words float quietly in the inch of space between them. 

“This has been the best Christmas I’ve had in a really long time. Thank you.”

They both end up laying down and Harry switches off the light. The space around them still feels fragile from Harry’s confession and Liam thinks he’s gotten away with not talking about his own childhood. But then Harry says, into the darkness, “Is that why you fell in love with working out? To defend yourself from those dicks at school?”

Liam nods, though Harry can’t see him, but Harry must know, because then there’s a hand on his face. Harry’s long fingers press along his eyebrow, trailing down his temple like a bead of water. Liam holds his breath when they trace over his mouth, tracing every pore, every prick facial hair, just like braille. And then the fingertips are replaced by a mouth. 

Harry kisses him gently, like a breath of air. Liam can barely feel it, but then again he feels it everywhere. It lights him up from the inside out, the same way the run set his legs ablaze, but this time the burn is deep in his chest. 

If this was what running felt like, Liam would never stop. He’d run around the globe just like Forrest Gump.

“I’m sorry those kids couldn’t see how great you are,” Harry whispers when he pulls away.

Liam can’t find his voice, so he just finds Harry’s hand beneath the sheet and hangs onto it again. And they fall asleep just like that. 

~

It’s easier, after that night and the rest of December passes in a blur. When Liam wakes up Harry does to, willingly meeting the sunrise for what Liam assumes is the first time in his life. They make breakfast together and then head out, hopping into the car and heading for the Golden Gate Bridge with the windows down. 

Liam had guessed right. Harry does stick his head out the window while they drive over the bay. Liam has never been able to look over the sides, his stomach dipping dangerously low whenever he does and his breakfast threatening to make a reappearance, but Harry has no problem with heights, apparently. He balances his phone in his hand, trying to get the best shot, and Liam almost has a heart attack when there’s a click of a seat belt being unbuckled. He reaches over and grabs onto Harry’s shirt while Harry basically sits on the window ledge the rest of the way over, one arm out like he’s flying. 

They go to the beach with the family, Harry chasing seagulls like a child. He calls to Liam and Ruth, telling them to join them, and Ruth actually does. Liam watches from the beach blanket, cracking up when somehow the both of them collide and go flailing into the sand. 

Harry falls asleep with his body in the sand and head on the blanket, hair dark with sea water and skin browned. Liam sprays sunscreen onto his shoulders when they start to turn red and then helps Ruth bury his legs, giving him a mermaid tail with shells decorating it and all. 

 

“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these!” Harry announces when they find a parking space at the old drive-in theater. Liam smiles at his overjoyed expression and they crawl back to the trunk. Ruth was meant to join them, but she ditched last minute, claiming that the two boys needed some bonding time alone. Liam decidedly ignored the suggestive look she shot him as they left. 

Opening the hatchback they spread out the blankets and make themselves comfortable. Harry sidles up right beside the other boy with his hand already digging into a bag of Doritos, mentioning again and again how excited he is. 

Harry ends up passing out half an hour into it. He frowns petulantly when Liam wakes him up at the end of the show. 

 

Miss Lola’s diner has the best waffles Liam has ever had in his life. When he wakes up at two in the morning to find Harry on his phone, claiming he can’t sleep, Liam knows exactly where to take him. 

“This is the best waffle I’ve ever had in my life,” Harry says around a mouth full of food. Whipped cream spills from his pursed lips and there’s a speck of strawberry stuck to his dimple. 

“Well, thank you, baby,” Miss Lola says from behind the bar. “I’ve known little Liam since he was an ankle biter and it’s great to see him bringing such a lovely new face around.”

She’s like a grandma to Liam, a larger than life woman with the warmest hugs Liam has ever received, her shock of wild gray hair and dark skin always smelling of coconut creme pie. The diner is supposed to open at four, but one morning when he was on a run after a particularly tough day at school, he saw her cleaning up the store an hour before. She let him inside and gave him a mug of hot chocolate, waiting patiently until he vented about the bullies he had to deal with every day. She had given him one of her world famous hugs, hadn’t wasted time with the  _ everything will be okay _ line that everyone replied to difficult times and promised that if I ever needed to talk at three in the morning again, her doors will always be open for him. 

So he and Harry make themselves comfortable at a booth, but not after Harry ran around insisting that he help mop or wipe down counters. Miss Lola had to physically drag him to his seat, swearing that she had opened this diner every morning for fifteen years and she could handle doing it tonight too. 

Both of their plates are piled high with waffles and topped with a mountain of whipped cream and all of the fruit in the world on top. They wipe their plates clean in fifteen minutes tops. 

Miss Lola tries to convince them to seconds even though both of them can barely breathe they’re so full, and then she begins asking Harry about his favorite parts of England and what art he likes to make. Harry talks to her comfortably, making her laugh and winning her over, just like everyone else he meets. Liam bites down on his bottom lip to tame his smile when Harry’s legs sneak across the floor to intertwine with his, holding him steady until they leave. 

Still not tired and now on a sugar high, they walk around a bit and Liam finds himself leading them to his Childhood playground. They kick themselves higher on the swings until they can’t anymore from laughing so hard at absolutely nothing at all. 

“Why are we laughing?” Harry asks, looking over at Liam with happy eyes shining in the streetlight glow. 

“Why are we out here at five in the morning?” Liam asks back. “Why are we anything at all?”

Harry points to the sky above a horizon of houses, gradually lightening to welcome the approaching sunrise. “That’s why!”

And Liam doesn’t really know what that means, but he smiles anyway, pressing his cheek to the cool metal chain of the swing and watching the sun rise over a sleeping San Francisco.

~

“I know what you’re doing,” Ruth tells him on the morning of New Year’s Eve. Harry is back to his routine of sleeping until noon and Liam let him rest, shuffling out to the kitchen where Ruth was sitting, scrolling through her phone and sipping on coffee. 

“What am I doing?” Liam asks, still only half awake while pouring his own mug by the sink. 

“Oh, please, Liam. I know Harry isn’t your boyfriend.”

Liam almost drops his Harry Potter mug to the tile. “W-what?”

Ruth rolls her eyes. “Harry was pretty believable, I’ll give him that, but you’re like an awkward virginal log when he even comes near you.’

“A virginal  _ log? _ ”

“Yes.”

“You can’t tell mom, okay?”

“But the thing is, you guys like each other, don’t you? Or are at least getting pretty close as far as I can tell?”

“What? No, it’s just-

“Did you talk to Harry?”

Liam pauses to take a breath and gather himself. Did I talk to him about what mom decided to announce over Christmas dinner? Yeah, we talked. Thanks for the note.”

“ _No,_ ” Ruth throws her head back dramatically. “Oh, my god. Liam, It’s so obvious.”

“What is?” Liam asks, borderline desperate for her to make her point.

“Harry’s good at acting like your boyfriend because it isn’t really acting for him.”

It takes Liam a moment for the words to make sense in his sleep deprived brain. “No… This is all just a stupid arrangement to make mom think I’ve actually found someone. To give her a little hope for her son.”

“Why would Harry be so comfortable kissing you beneath mistletoe like that if he wasn’t somewhat into you? Why would you come up with this whole lie anyway if even a small part of you didn’t want to know what being with him would be like?”

“He’s just good at kissing people, probably does it all the time! I mean, have you seen him?”

Ruth raises her eyebrow, walking towards him to set her half empty mug into the sink. “Talk to him.”

~

They go to the beach that night to celebrate, a little spot right down the street from the house, rolling along a cooler of beers and sparklers all around. Ruth had invited the couple of girls she’d kept in touch with from high school and one of them brought some old speakers that they blast music from as they wait for the fireworks. Some are already being set off in various places down the beach, but Liam isn’t paying attention to that because Harry is spinning him around, trying for something akin to dancing although Liam doesn’t think this counts. 

They end up with their backs in the sand, the sound of laughing girls and rolling waves barely making it through the fuzz of alcohol in Liam’s mind. 

He’s happy. That’s all he feels right now, not tainted by any fear or worry for the first time in a long time. So he says it. 

“I’m so happy!”

“Me, too!” Harry says back, way too loudly when they have their shoulders pressed together. 

Ruth’s words had been at the forefront of Liam’s mind all day and with every brush of Harry’s skin against his he had wondered if it could mean something more. But with every beer he downs as the night goes on, the less he cares. They can figure out that shit in the morning, but all that matters now is what feels good. So Liam rolls onto his stomach, half on Harry and half in the sand, interlocking their legs. 

“I mean really, really happy,” Liam says again, quieter this time. 

Harry is grinning up at him, that award winning smile, eyes slightly glassy but still green, green,  _ green.  _

“Me, too,” he copies. And then he leans up.

The countdown is starting around them, but they’re already kissing. Their hands are everywhere at once and the rush of ocean waves has gotten inside Liam’s head crashing against his skull, and drowning his senses. 

One of the most prominent memories Liam’s mind can muster is when he saw a crash from the back seat of his parents’ car. Two pickups t-bones and thankfully nobody was hurt, but Liam can remember seeing the back window shatter like it was yesterday. Time slowed down as the two forces collided. Liam’s heart raced as he clutched the stuffed giraffe he had brought along for the ride, and he felt a pressure in his chest as his own car screeched to a stop. 

Right now, it’s like all of those things are happening at once. Harry’s body is colliding with his, shattering him into pieces and smashing them into one. The boom and crackle of fireworks around them is in another universe, faint and far away. Liam is clutching onto Harry, grabbing at anything he can to ground him, tugging at his hair, gripping the warm skin of his arm, pressing Harry deeper into the sand. There’s a pressure deep inside of him, building and building. 

“Do you want to head back?” Harry asks against Liam’s mouth, the end of the sentence breaking away breathlessly. Liam nods and they peel themselves apart, struggling to walk in a straight line back to the house as they sneak kisses and gropes, stopping a few times along the way when they can’t stand the distance anymore. 

Back in Liam’s room Harry tears him apart and builds him back up again, all with the soft press of a mouth and flick of a tongue. He presses a hand over Liam’s mouth to keep him quiet and has Liam’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, limbs shaking in a way he has never experienced before. 

He returns the favor by rolling Harry over and licking leftover ocean spray from the dip of his hips. He runs fingernails down his sides and holds him down, keeping him from squirming and making him grip the blankets in frustration. It’s the most gorgeous sight Liam has ever seen, Harry’s body going taught like a bow, head thrown back and muscles tense as he comes again and again. 

They pass out intertwined, bodies heated and wrapped around each other, the rubble from the crash scattered across Liam’s room. He exhales a sigh of relief as sleep greets him, something that had been holding him tense this whole vacation finally releasing and floating away into thin air. 

~

Liam feels strange when the sun beating on his back wakes him the next morning. There’s a heavy pounding in his head and a stale taste in his mouth, but the worst part is the rolling uncertainty and confusion in his gut. 

Harry is blinking awake beside him, hair like a bird's nest and eyes bleary. Liam slips from the bed before Harry can snuggle closer. 

When Liam gets back from his shower, Harry goes to take one of his own, and as their packing their stuff up on separate end of the room, they both know something is off. 

They put on smiles as they say their goodbyes downstairs, Karen hugging the both of them at the same time until Liam’s dad makes her release only for him to hug them both with a teary smile of his own. 

“I hope to see you around more, Harry,” Geoff says, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re a fine young man. I’d love to hear more about England. I’ll teach you a little more about our American football next time you’re over.” 

Liam’s jaw tenses at the proposal of a next time, but Harry is just grinning away. “I know about the Packers!” he exclaims.

“That’s the problem.”

Ruth bids them goodbye with a plate of extra Christmas cookies from Aunt Helen and a knowing smirk at Liam as they leave. 

In the car they’re quiet. It isn’t like the trip there, fighting over the AUX cord and playing twenty questions. Now the radio stays on a random Top 40 station and Harry falls asleep against his window. They don’t hold hands, they don’t talk, and Liam tries not to think about the bits and pieces of last night slowly coming back to full clarity as he drives. 

 

Liam thinks that’s that as they throw their bags into their dorm room, back at home sweet home for the next couple months. He sets up the painting Harry made for him up on his desk, right beside the original one of the road, and confirms it with himself. It was an arrangement that went to plan. Liam’s mom is at home now, content in knowing that her son is okay and loved at college, having the time of his life. He’ll tell her that they broke up when the right moment comes, say it was mutual and they’re still okay, that he’s still okay, and everything will be fine. 

But then Harry is turning to him, a hand tugging at his mop of hair. “You’re driving me insane.”

Liam looks up from the painting, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“I want you, Liam,” Harry says. He huffs a sarcastic laugh. “As if I haven’t made that clear. I just feel like I finally have you and then you’re pulling away and it’s making me crazy.”

Liam freezes. Thousands of words spin in his head like his brain is a washing machine, but none of them make it to his mouth because he doesn’t know which ones to choose. He stands there like a deer in headlights and Harry throws his arms out at his sides. 

“Was it all just acting to you, Liam? Is that really the only reason you invited me on holiday? Was last night just a drunken mistake?” Liam opens his mouth, but when there are still no words, Harry grips the fabric of his shirt that rests over his chest. The same place Liam had tugged at as they lay on the beach. “Talk to me!”

“You… you knew it was just a lie,” Liam murmurs. The words feel sour, but it’s too late to change them now. Harry stares at him with a look of disbelief and Liam reaches a hand out to stop him from turning away, to give him some more time to figure out what he wants, how to fix this. But the door is already slamming behind him and leaving Liam in an empty room with only the echo of his own words to keep him company. 

~

Harry avoids Liam like the plague after that. Always either out at some party or spending the night at Niall’s dorm. But on the off chance that he catches Harry at their room, he always seems to be conveniently heading out with only muttered words that Liam can never fully comprehend before the door closes between them again. This goes on for nearly two weeks before Liam comes back from his economics class to see half of Harry’s things packed up and the other half already gone. 

The shock of the sight in front of him forces him motionless in the doorway. He feels the his legs growing restless, though, the longer he looks at the suitcases on the stripped bed. All of the paints and brushes that usually clutter the floor are gone, no spare canvases leaning against the wall or the end of Harry’s bed. The only pieces of art left on display that give any hint that Harry was ever here are the two roads propped up on Liam’s desk but he can’t even look at them.

He needs a run. Needs to get as far from here as he can until his legs are burning from exhaustion and then to keep going. Liam doesn’t even get the chance to think of which running shoes he’s going to wear before a husky British accent sounds from behind him. 

“‘Scuse me.” Harry mumbles but doesn’t make any attempt to push past Liam.

Liam wordlessly steps to the side to let him through and watches him grab his suitcases from the doorway.

And then he makes himself ask before it’s too late. “Why are you leaving?”

“I’m just moving dorms,” he says, looking at his scuffed up boots instead of Liam’s eyes. “One opened up.”

“But-”

“I can’t be in this room after what we did.”

“Oh…” Liam’s heart aches.  _ Tell him to stay,  _ it yells at him. But Liam can’t. The truth all mixed up in what was supposed to be a lie confuses his head. He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t know if he wants Harry because of Harry or because of the little play they decided to put on for his family. He just doesn’t know, so instead of stopping the boy he might be falling in love with, Liam steps aside. 

That’s when Harry looks up at him, as he’s leaving, and his green eyes are encased in a shell of hurt. He goes to leave, but stops last minute, only a couple inches from Liam, head still hanging low. 

“Um,” he starts quietly. “Just… when you tell your mom that we broke up, or whatever, tell her that she gave me the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Liam repeats, nodding his head too many times. Harry walks out the door.

~

It’s three weeks post-Harry when Louis bursts into the dorm, flapping a piece of paper over his head. 

“Why did they choose to give  _ you  _ a key to every dorm?” Liam asks, not glancing up from his textbook. Louis slaps the paper down over the pages. 

It’s a flyer for a showing taking place at a local art museum. Apparently, they’ve chosen a select few from the college to display an art piece for judging. It’s taking place this weekend. 

Liam keeps a blank face, setting the flyer to the side and going back to his work. “What’s that about?”

He doesn’t have to be looking at him to know the glare being shot his way. “We’re going.”

Liam sighs, closing his eyes. “Louis, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He won’t want to see me.”

Louis crawls on to the bed, getting in Liam’s so he’ll look up at him. “He. Is. In. Love. With. You.”

“Stop.” Liam says, pushing him back with his knee and trying not to let the ache that had settled on his heart since Harry walked out show.

Louis settles down onto the bed. “Niall and I think you both are being really dumb right now.”

“Thanks for that.” 

“Liam, he’s been like a kicked puppy for the past month, skipping class to make depressing art like his lover was lost at war and not literally a hallway away. And all you’ve been doing is moping around at the gym when all you have to do is talk to him.” 

Liam thinks about the polaroid picture in the drawer of his desk, the crumpled one that had fallen from the pocket of his sweatpants when he pulled them from his dresser one day. It’s the one his mom took, Harry kissing him and holding him close. He can see Ruth’s writing in his head.  _ Talk to him _ .

“But what would I even say?” Liam asks. Louis looks at him as if it’s obvious. 

“Be ready Saturday morning. We’re leaving first thing.” He hops up from the bed and Liam looks at the flyer one more time before he goes. 

“But the showing is at seven in the evening.”

“Don’t be a dick, dude, just be ready!”

~

Moths are shoved in Liam’s stomach and fluttering in his lungs and he can’t breathe. 

“You’re going to pass out,” Niall says as they walk to the gallery, rubbing a hand between Liam’s shoulder blades. They all look as presentable as they ever had, all in black and white formal wear. It’s the first time Liam has seen Louis in a dress shirt since he’s known him. Liam knows he better enjoy his nice clothing now when they enter the tall double doors and he’s handed a glass of champagne. His palms feel sweaty and grip unsteady with nerves, so he’s pretty certain the drink will be all over his front before he even sets eyes on Harry in this place. 

“We’re going to walk around,” Niall announces. 

Louis winks at him and says, “Go get your man,” before turning to sling an arm around Niall as they walk to the other end of the exhibit. 

Liam takes a steadying breath and turns toward the side of the room that has paintings covering the walls. He’s sure all of the art pieces are beautiful, sure they would make him feel something if he could process what any of them are. But all he’s seeing is streaks of random color, not reading any of the names and trusting that he’ll know Harry’s when he sees it. He probably looks insane, jumping from canvas to canvas, only giving it a once over before moving to the next. 

And then he sees it. The rust orange iron of the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s painted from Harry’s point of view, from when he was sitting on the window opening of Liam’s car. It shows the outside of the car, all of the passing vehicles and the blur of pavement, and then it shows what is inside of the car. Liam’s hand is gripping Harry’s shirt, trying to keep him safe, and Liam’s face can just be seen, smiling towards the windshield. The picture it’s based off of, one Harry must have snapped as they drove, is at the bottom of the frame

Liam stops in his tracks, the moths in his stomach settling, everything going still. A title is printed on a little white plaque beneath it. 

_ Fool’s Gold _ .

From his blurred surroundings, he senses a presence step up beside him. 

“It’s when you think something holds value, but it’s just a lie.” Harry’s holding his hands behind his back, shoulders squared as he keeps his gaze trained straight ahead, refusing to be the first to make eye contact. Liam stays quiet, still lost for the right words to fix all of this. “I’m surprised to see you at something like this. I know how much you hate pretentious artists and the such.” There’s a sharp edge to the forced playful tone in Harry’s voice that finally breaks Liam from his mute trance. 

“I want you, too,” he blurts out, turning to face the other boy. Harry is dressed in tight, black dress pants, a sheer button down tucked in and buttons undone to halfway down his chest. His eyes are wide, stare intense. “When I feel things like that, I freeze up. I don’t know how to let new people into my life and that’s why I hated you before we even met. Just ask Louis, he had to practically force me to be his friend,” Liam knows he’s rambling, but feels a sudden sense of desperation, like if he doesn’t tell Harry everything he needs to, there won’t be another chance. “Honestly, I’ve wanted you since I walked in on you painting naked on the dorm room floor.”

Harry huffs a laugh low in his chest. “You have a funny way of showing it.” He ducks his head, still looking at Liam beneath the hair falling over his forehead with something like expectancy glinting off the upward pull at one corner of his mouth. 

That’s when Liam musters up all the courage he’s ever had and steps closer. “Is this better?”

“Yes,” Harry breathes out, barely a sound made. 

Liam smiles and closes the gap between them, kissing Harry the way he wanted to when Harry gave him the painting of his street. He kisses him like he’s something fragile, like they’re made of glass when they’re something so much more. They’re golden. Not fool’s gold, but the real kind, glowing like the sky was when Harry pointed up at it as they swung on rusty swings. 

_ Why are we anything at all?  _ Liam had asked. 

_ That’s why!  _ Harry had replied.

To paint the world in gold.

 


End file.
